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TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


Jlacmtllan’s Pockft American anb !£n0lisl) dlasstcs 

A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and 
Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc. 

i6mo Cloth 25 cents each 


Addison’s Sir Roger de Coverley. 
Andersen’s Fairy Tales. 

Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. 

Arnold’s Sohrab and Rustum. 

Bacon’s Essays. 

Bible (Memorable Passages from). 
Blackmore’s Lorna Doone. 

Browning’s Shorter Poems. 

Browning, Mrs., Poems (Selected). 
Bryant's Thanatopsis, etc. 

Bulwer’s Last Days of Pompeii. 

Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress. 
Burke’s Speech on Conciliation. 

Burns’ Poems (Selections from). 

Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 
Byron’s Shorter Poems. 

Carlyle’s Essay on Burns. 

Carlyle’s Heroes and Hero Worship. 
Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land (Illustrated). 

Chaucer’s Prologue and Knight’s Tale. 
Church’s The Story of the Iliad. 

Church’s The Story of the Odyssey. 
Coleridge’s The Ancient Mariner. 
Cooper’s The Deerslayer. 

Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans. 
Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe. 

De Quincey's Confessions of an English 
Opium-Eater. 

De Quincey’s Joan of Arc, and The Eng- 
lish Mail-Coach. 

Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, and The 
Cricket on the Hearth. 


Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. 

Dryden’s Palamon and Arcite. 

Early American Orations, 1760-1824. 
Edwards’ (Jonathan) Sermons. 

Eliot’s Silas Marner. 

Emerson’s Essays. 

Emerson’s Early Poems. 

Emerson’s Representative Men. 
Epoch-making Papers in U. S. History. 
’Franklin’s Autobiography. ^ 

Gaskeir's Cranford. 

Goldsmith’s The Deserted Village, She 
Stoops to Conquer, and The Good- 
natured Man. 

Goldsmith’s The Vicar of Wakefield. 
Grimm’s Fairy Tales. 

Hawthorne’s Grandfather’s Chair. 
Hawthorne’s Mosses from an Old Manse. 
Hawthorne’s Tanglewood Tales. 
Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven 
Gables. 

Hawthorne’s Twice-told Tales (Selections 
from). 

Hawthorne’s Wonder-Book. 

Holmes’ Poems. 

Homer’s Iliad (Translated). 

Homer’s Odyssey (Translated). 

Hughes’ Tom Brown’s School Days. 
Irving’s Life of Goldsmith. 

Irving’s Knickerbocker. 

Irving’s The Alhambra. 

Irving’s Sketch Book. 

Keary’s Heroes of Asgard. 


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A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Elementary and 
Secondary Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc. 

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Kingsley’s The Heroes. 

Lamb’s The Essays of Elia. 

Longfellow’s Evangeline. 

Longfellow’s Hiawatha. 

Longfeliow’s Miles Standish. 
Longfellow’s Tales of a Wayside Inn. 
Lowell’s The Vision of Sir Launfal. 
Macaulay’s Essay on Addison. 

Macaulay’s Essay on Hastings. 
Macaulay’s Essay on Lord Clive. 
Macaulay’s Essay on Milton. 

Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome. 
Macaulay’s Life of Samuel Johnson. 
Milton’s Comus and Other Poems. 
Milton’s Paradise Lost, Books 1. and 11. 
Old English Ballads. 

Out of the Northland. 

Palgrave’s Golden Treasury. 

Plutarch’s Lives (Caesar, Brutus, and 
Mark Antony). 

Poe’s Poems. 

Poe’s Prose Tales (Selections from). 
Pope’s Homer’s Iliad. 

Pope’s The Rape of the Lock. 

Rjiskin’s Sesame and Lilies. 

Lott’s Ivanhoe. 

Scott’s Kenilworth. 

Scott’s Lady of the Lake. 

Scott’s Lay of the Last Minstrel. 

Scott’s Marmion. 

Scott’s Quentin Durward. 


Scott’s The Talisman. 

Shakespeare’s As You Like It. 
Shakespeare’s Hamlet. 

Shakespeare’s Henry V. 

Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. 
Shakespeare's King Lear. 

Shakespeare’s Macbeth. 

Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s 
Dream. 

Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice. 
Shakespeare’s Richard 11. 

Shakespeare’s The Tempest. 
Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. 

Shelley and Keats : Poems. 

Sheridan’s The Rivals and The School 
for Scandal. 

Southern Poets : Selections. 

Spenser’s Faerie Queene, Book 1. 
Stevenson’s The Master of Ballantrae. 
Stevenson’s Treasure Island. 

Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. 

Tennyson’s Idylls of the King. 
Tennyson’s The Princess. 

Tennyson’s Shorter Poems. 

Thackeray’s Henry Esmond. 
Washington’s Farewell Address, and 
Webster’s First Bunker Hill Oration. 
Whittier’s Snow-bound and Other Early 
Poems. 

Woolman’s Journal. 

Wordsworth’s Shorter Poems. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

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General View of Rugby School 








TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


BY 

THOMAS HUGHES 

f 

EDITED WITH INTRODUCTIOlSr AND NOTES 

BY 

CHARLES S^VAIN THOMAS, A.AI. 

HEAD OF THE ENGLISH DEPARTMENT OF THE SHORTRIDGE 
HIGH SCHOOL, INDIANAPOLIS 


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Neto gork 

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1908 


All rights reserved 


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Ui6»?ARY of O&NGRESS 
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OLAS& AXC. W«, 

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Copyright, 1908 , 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 

Set up and electrotyped. Published June^ 1908. 



Norhjaoh i^rfS0 

J. S. Cushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction ; . page 

Thomas Hughes • . • ix 

Thomas Arnold xiii 

Critical Comment ........ xx 

Bibliography xxi 

Author’s Preface to the Sixth Edition .... xxiii 

J 

Tom Brown’s School Days : 

PART I 

CHAPTER 

1. The Brown Family 1 

II. The Veast 15 

III. Sundry Wars and Alliances 31 

IV. The Stage Coach 48 

V. Rugby and Football ...... 61 

VI. After the Match 79 

VII. Settling to the Collar ...... 94 

VIII. The War of Independence . . . .Ill 

IX. A Chapter of Accidents 129 


CONTENTS 


viii 

TART II 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. How the Tide Turned 148 

II. The New Boy 159 

III. Arthur makes a Friend 171 

IV. The Bird-fanciers 183 

V. The Fight 194 

VI. Fever in the School 209 

VII. Harry East’s Dilemmas and Deliverances . . 223 

VIII. Tom Brown’s Last Match 237 

IX. Finis 256 

Notes . 263 




INTRODUCTION 


THOMAS HUGHES 

Thomas Hughes was born on October 20, 1822, in Berk- 
shire, in the little village of Uffington, where his grandfather 
was Vicar. This grandfather was also a Canon of St. Paul’s, 
and spent half of his time in London, where his little grandson 
was a frequent visitor. Most of Hughes’ boyhood, however, 
was spent in close companionship with his elder brother, 
George, in the country at the foot of the Berkshire chalk hills, 
in a district in which his father was a busy magistrate. His 
earliest formal education commenced at Twyford, near Win- 
chester. In a letter to James Russell Lowell, Hughes com- 
mented upon the characteristic in this school, which most 
deeply impressed him. “The best feature about it,” he wrote, 
“was the Winchester custom, called ‘ standing up,’ which means 
that we were encouraged to learn a great deal of poetry by 
heart, for which we got extra marks at the end of the half 
year. We were allowed (within limits) to choose our own 
poets, and I always chose Scott from family tradition, and in 
this way learned the whole of The Lady of the Lake, and most 
of The Lay of the Last Minstrel and Martnion, by heart, and can 
repeat much of them to this day.” 

When Thomas was ten years old, he was sent, along with 
his brother George, to Rugby. The choice of Rugby was 
determined largely by the fact that the father of the two boys 
had been a college friend of Dr. Thomas Arnold, the head- 
master. Here Thomas Hughes remained until he was nineteen, 
and although he later denied that his story of Tom Brown was 
autobiographical, we may safely assume that the spirit and 
general attitude of the real and of the fictitious boy were almost 
identical; and that the love and respect which Tom Brown 

ix 


X 


INTRODUCTION 


came to feel for Dr. Arnold, clearly reflects the feeling of Thomas 
Hughes. He spent much of his time on the athletic fields, 
where he excelled at cricket, and later became the head of the 
eleven. Indeed, he was much more anxious to excel in athletic 
contests than to gain high standing in his studies. He later 
expressed the opinion that he would likely have been asked 
to go to another school had not Dr. Arnolcl discovered in him 
an unusual fondness for history and literature. The boy’s 
detailed knowledge of Roman history, and his keen memory 
for the details of Scott’s nbvels, helped Dr. Arnold to view 
more leniently the lapses in Hhtin constructions and the general 
air of indifference which the boy showed toward the formal 
studies of the school. 

In later life Hughes named two invaluable possessions which 
he carried away from Rugby: “first, a strong religious faith 
in and loyalty to Christ; and secondly, open-mindedness.” 
These two possessions may very properly be attributed to the 
influence of Dr. Arnold. Another trait which Hughes admits 
may have been strengthened by his Rugby life was his love of 
democracy. Before Hughes’ time, it had been the playground 
practice to drive from the field the neighboring peasant boys 
meanly dressed in their corduroys and fustians. When Thomas 
Hughes became the head of the cricket team, — a position 
which carried with it almost siijireme authority on the school 
playgrounds, — he freely invited the best cricketers among 
these boys to practise with him, and freciuently got up matches 
with them. 

When, in 1842, Hughes went up to Oriel College, Oxford, he 
took with him a reputation for expert cricket playing and for 
mediocre scholarship. During the first year or two he paid 
little attention to his studies, but near the close of his second 
year, becoming engaged to Miss Frances Ford, whom he later 
married, he applied himself more seriously to his work and 
became fixed in those steady habits which distinguished his 
maturer years. He received his degree in 1845, went im- 
mediately up to London to read law at Lincoln’s Inn, and three 
years later was admitted to the bar. He never became a great 
lawyer; nevertheless, he supported himself well in his profes- 
sion. In 1882 he received an appointment as county judge 
and went to live at Chester, where he built a country home 
which he named Uffington, in honor of his birthplace. 


INTRODUCTION 


XI 


While a student of law at Lincoln’s Inn, he had come into 
close personal contact with the Chaplain, Rev. F. D. Maurice, 
who was then winning a reputation as a social reformer. 
Hughes readily caught the spirit of Maurice and entered actively 
into the work of Christian Socialism, designed to ameliorate 
the condition of the London poor. Cooperation was the plan 
most strongly emphasized by these enthusiasts as the means 
that would most quickly establish amicable relationship be- 
tween the employer and the employed. To their magazine, 
which was known as The Christian Socialist, and which set 
forth their doctrine, Hughes was a frequent contributor. 
This band of workers was instrumental in establishing in 1S54 
the Working Men’s College, an institution which offered higher 
education to laborers. Maurice, the first president, was, at 
his death, succeeded by Hughes, who carried on the work so 
successfully begun by his predecessor. 

It is interesting to note that in this work of social reforma- 
tion, Hughes’ athletic training at Rugby and at Oxford asserted 
its influence. He at first tried lecturing and teaching in the 
college, but finding this unsuccessful, he set about correcting 
some of the physical defects which he noted in the men, par- 
ticularly their rounded shoulders and their slouching gait. As 
a first step, he established boxing and gymnastic classes, — 
a measure which led to informal discussions with the men 
along the sociological lines in which the Christian Socialists 
were particularly interested. 

Hughes’ connection with this social work led naturally to 
an active interest in political affairs. In 1865 he was elected 
to Parliament from Lambeth, one of the London boroughs, 
which he represented for two terms. The third and last term 
of his parliamentary career, he represented the district of 
Frome. His work in Parliament was of a high and inde- 
pendent order. Though unsuccessful as a speaker, he per- 
formed valuable committee work, and was always an efficient 
writer. He was particularly interested in those measures 
which lent themselves to practical reform. He was an earnest 
advocate of all acts which tended to disseminate popular 
education, for he had early pinned his faith to the cause of 
democracy, feeling that, with an educated democracy, the 
welfare of the nation was securely safeguarded. Always in 
Parliament, as elsewhere, he earnestly esi)oused the cause of 


INTRODUCTION 


xii 

the laboring men. While insisting upon their financial right, 
— particularly as it manifested itself in the cooperative move- 
ment, — he likewise urged upon these men the necessity of 
availing themselves of the privileges which higher education 
vouchsafed to them. 

It was largely this interest in social regeneration which led 
him to make his visits to America. He came first in 1870, 
and delivered two notable lectures, one in Boston, entitled 
John to Jonathan,^ and one in New York on The Labor Ques- 
tion. He came again nine years later as the representative of 
a group of English colonists interested in founding a com- 
munistic settlement. A large estate was purchased in Ten- 
nessee and named Rugby in honor of the school to which Hughes 
was so fondly attached. Into this communistic experiment, 
Hughes for a time poured his whole enthusiasm. He sub- 
sequently withdrew ; but his younger brother, Hastings Hughes, 
came later with his mother to make his home in this community, 
where the mother afterward died. 

Thomas Hughes was always deeply interested in America. 
He followed her history closely; and when our Civil War broke 
out, he threw his sympathy strongly upon the side of the North. 
He was early attracted to the poetry of James Russell Lowell, 
and when Hughes came to America, the two developed a cordial 
friendship for each other. How high a regard Lowell enter- 
tained for his English friend, is finely revealed in the Lowell 
letters which Charles Eliot Norton has edited. Lowell, in one 
of his letters to Miss Norton, ventures the opinion “that 
there never was an Englishman who took this country so 
naturally as Hughes.” 

However, it is not for Thomas Hughes’ work as a social re- 
former in England, nor as a founder of a communistic settle- 
ment here in America, that we chiefly remember him. We 
think of him as a literary man, — more particularly as the 
author of Tom Brown's School Days. He had already written 
frequently for the London Spectator. For this he had received 
varying sums, but all this work was incidental and fragmen- 
tary. It was in 1853, while he was living at Wimbleton, a 
few miles from London, that the book, so popularly received, 

^ This title was of course suggested by Lowell 's “Biglow Papers,” 
entitled Jonathan to John. 


INTRODUCTION 


xiii 


was begun. The inspiring motive was the author’s desire to 
express in story form certain definite principles which he wished 
to present to his eight-year-old son. After a portion of the 
manuscript had been written, it was submitted to Alexander 
Macmillan. The publisher accepted it with enthusiasm, and 
urged its immediate completion. The work, however, was 
delayed on account of the illness and death of the author’s eldest 
daughter. The story was finally anonymously published in 
1857, passing through five editions during the first nine months. 
Since that date, its popularity has continued unabated. 

It was inevitable that such pronounced literary success 
should encourage further effort along similar lines. The list 
which follows shows the varied lines of this literary industry : 
Tom Brown’s School Days; Tom Brown at Oxford; The Scour- 
ing of the White Horse; The Memoir of a Brother; The Manli- 
ness of Christ; The Old Church; Rugby, Tennessee; Gone to 
Texas; Vacation Rambles; and biographies of Bishop Fraser, 
of Daniel Macmillan, of Livingstone, and of Alfred the Great. 

While we are accustomed to think of the work of Thomas 
Hughes as literary, we should remember that all through his 
life he was actively engaged in the law. As has already been 
said, he was in 1882 appointed a county judge, and he remained 
in this work until the time of his death, March 22, 1896. 

A statue was later erected at Rugby, as an honor due to the 
man who had done so much to make the Rugby spirit known 
throughout the world. 


THOMAS ARNOLD 

Rugby School, the scene of Tom Brown’s mischievous 
pranks and adventures, of his difficulties and temptations, 
and of his steady growth toward higher ideals, was, in the time 
of Tom Brown, penetrated throughout with the spirit of Dr. 
Thomas Arnold, who was then its head-rnaster. Dean Stanley, 
a schoolmate of Thomas Hughes at Rugby, and afterward 
Dr. Arnold’s greatest biographer, says, in discussing Arnold’s 
tremendous personal influence in the school : ‘‘ From one end 
of it to the other, whatever defects it had were his defects; 
whatever excellences it had were his excellences. It was not 
the master who was beloved or disliked for the sake of the 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


school, but the school was beloved or disliked for the sake of 
the master. Whatever peculiarity of character was impressed 
upon the scholars whom it sent forth, was derived not from 
the genius of the place, but from the genius of the man. 
Throughout, whether in the school itself or in its after-effects, 
the one image that we have before us is not of Rugby but of 
Arnold.” 

If we would understand Rugby, then, we must know some- 
thing of the character, motives, and methods of the man who 
made it one of the greatest public schools in England. Of the 
external facts of Dr. Arnold’s uneventful life little need be 
said; for there was ‘‘something about him that was finer 
than anything he ever said or did”; and that “something” 
was, as Emerson has defined it in the make-up of Sir William 
Pitt, his personality or character. 

He was born June 13, 1795, at West Cowes on the Isle of 
Wight. His father, William Arnold, who was a collector 
of customs, died suddenly of spasm in the heart, when Thomas 
was only six years old. His early education was intrusted to 
his maternal aunt. Miss Delafield, who directed all of his studies 
with wisdom and devotion. At the age of eight he entered 
Warminster, — an endowed school, — where he remained for 
four years. The next four years, from 1807 to 1811, he spent 
at Winchester, an excellent preparatory or public school. 
At the age of sixteen he was entered as a scholar at Corpus 
Christ! College, Oxford, where, three years after, he took his 
degree. In 1815 he was elected a Fellow of Oriel, winning 
there in the same year a prize for Latin, and two years later, 
one for an English essay. In 1820 he left Oxford, where he 
had been ordained two years earlier, to accept a curacy at 
Laleham, in Surrey. He was married in this year to Mary 
Penrose, the sister of one of his college friends. From 1820 
to 1828 he remained at Laleham, continuing his studies in 
Greek and Latin, writing histories of Greece and Rome, tutor- 
ing seven or eight young men who were preparing to enter 
the Universities, and ’attending conscientiously to the duties 
which his curacy imposed upon him. In 1828 he was elected 
head-master of Rugby School. Here, in 1842, after fourteen 
years of remarkable service in the school, he died suddenly, 
as his father had died, of sj^asm in the heart. 

With these facts, stated merely as statistics, and constitut- 


INTRODUCTION 


XV 


ing the uneventful career of Dr. Arnold, we are little concerned. 
Of his personality and character, and of his methods of dealing 
with problems affecting the interests of his school, we shall 
have more to say. 

In his youth, his manner was diffident and reserved, yet, 
even then, he possessed a strong personal magnetism which drew 
about him many loyal friends. Among his teachers and school- 
mates he was known as a studious, thoughtful boy, gentle 
and courteous to every one, and earnestly devoted to principle. 
The timidity and reserve which characterized his boyhood 
gave way, in later years, to a lively, buoyant spirit. His bearing, 
however, always had in it a degree of formality which made 
the younger pupils in his school tremble, and the older ones, 
who were fascinated by it, stand in awe of him. 

His love of goodness, his intense hatred of evil, and his 
firmness in dealing with it, together with his sympathetic 
understanding of boy nature, made him a great power for go(M 
among all the boys who came into close touch with him. The 
majority of boys in the upper classes at Rugby would have 
gone to almost any length of sacrifice to serve him; and in 
their eagerness to earn his respect and confidence, they were 
willing to put forth any effort. So strong was the moral and 
religious influence which he exerted over these boys, that, 
wherever they went, the Rugbians were distinguished from 
the boys of other schools by a spirit of reverence and moral 
thoughtfulness — ‘^Arnoldian marks,” which they bore through- 
out their lives. 

Dr. Arnold was of an intensely religious temperament. In 
no other department of his work did he exercise so powerful 
an influence as that which he exerted through his impassioned 
morning prayers with the boys, and through his forcible ser- 
mons and chapel exercises. When he was in college at Oxford, 
he was assailed by sceptical fears, which almost overwhelmed 
him, but which, after a severe struggle, he finally overcame. 
The blind faith which one of his college friends urged upon 
him as the remedy for his spiritual conflict, he refused to accept; 
but like Tennyson’s friend, Arthur Hallam, he “fought his 
doubts,” until, “laying the spectres of his mind,” he came into 
an enlightened, trusting faith of his own — a faith which kept 
him optimistic and sweet-spirited through all the perplexing 
problems which Rugby School daily brought to him. 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION 


When, in 1828, he went to Rugby as head-master, the affairs 
of the school were in a deplorable condition. He found a large 
number of boys practising various vices; drunkenness, bully- 
ing, and moral cowardice were alarmingly prevalent, and there 
was a common disposition upon the part of the boys to rebel 
against authority and to resist any innovations which were 
not in harmony with the traditions of the school. 

The outlook was indeed discouraging; but Dr. Arnold was 
not daunted. Eager to make Rugby a really Christian school, 
and the boys ‘‘true gentlemen of manly conduct and moral 
thoughtfulness,” he went to work with rare insight and zeal 
to correct the evils and build up the school. The methods 
which he employed to carry out his work of reform were 
severely and generally criticised upon the ground that they 
were too radical. But the criticism was not well founded; 
for, although he made many changes in detail, which the best 
interests of the school demanded, he did not alter the general 
principles or violate the spirit of the system. The good which 
he found in the school he retained; the weak places he strength- 
ened; whatever was hopelessly bad he eliminated. In this 
work of reform, which was constructive rather than destructive, 
he moved firmly but cautiously, studying the best methods 
practised in similar schools, seeking advice from other head- 
masters in England, and frequently consulting the masters 
in his own school. 

As a first step toward the improvement of the moral tone 
in the school, he brought the boys under closer and more 
sympathetic supervision, by placing at the head of each 
boarding house a master, who, in addition to his work of 
instruction in the lower classes, was to look after the interests 
of the boys thus intrusted to his care; to advise with them 
in regard to their conduct and studies, and, in short, to sustain 
toward them the same responsible, pastoral relation which 
Dr. Arnold sustained toward the whole school. In these 
masters — chosen for their scholarship, but more for their , 
special fitness — he placed the greatest confidence, and he i 
sought in every way to increase their efficiency by making 
them happy in their work. I 

Another important step which he took to better the moral 
condition of the school was his frequent recourse to expulsion, 
in the case of boys who he felt were out of place in a public 


INTRODUCTION 


xvu 


school. Vicious boys who exercised an evil influence over 
their companions; weak boys who could not resist the tempta- 
tions at Rugby; and hopelessly dull boys who could derive 
no sort of good from the school, he expelled because he felt 
that they had no place there. In reply to the severe criticism 
which such action provoked among the parents, he said: “It 
is not necessary that this should be a school of three hundred, 
or one hundred, or of fifty boys; it is necessary that it should 
be a school of Christian gentlemen.” 

Although he retained flogging as a punishment suited to 
the age and inferiority of boys in the lower forms, he employed 
it, even there, only in the cases of those who were guilty of 
moral offences, such as lying, drinking, and habitual idleness. 
Wherever it was possible, he substituted for corporal punish- 
ment, kindness and encouragement; and thus he developed 
whatever was good and noble in those with whom he had to 
deal. In the Sixth Form, he abolished flogging altogether, 
trusting implicitly, until his confidence was betrayed, to the 
honor and manhood of boys whose age and mature judgment 
he thought should make them worthy of confidence. 

His disposition to regard the traditional spirit of the school, 
and to make the best of the institutions which he found at 
Rugby, was exemplified in the use which he made of the practice 
of fagging. By the system of fagging was meant the power 
conferred upon the boys of the Sixth Form or highest class, 
to be exercised over the boys in the lower forms, for the pur- 
pose of securing orderly government in the school. The 
exercise of this power — by virtue of which the boys of the 
Sixth Form were trusted to settle in their own way, without 
intervention on the part of the assistant masters, important 
cases of discipline in the low^r forms — had been for 5^ears 
subject to severe criticism, — especially that feature of it 
which permitted the boys of the Sixth Form to inflict personal 
chastisement upon the younger boys in the lower forms. 

But Dr. Arnold saw^ in the system great possibilities; freed 
from the gross abuses which made it so objectionable, it would, 
he believed, serve an important purpose in raising the moral 
standard of the school. Of all the evils w'hich he noted at 
Rugby, the most hateful to him w^as that of moral cow^ardice, 
or a servile fear of public opinion. Most of the boys he found 
in a state of slavery to established or traditional opinions 


INTRODUCTION 


xviii 

which regulated their conduct from the buying of a hat to 
the saying — or rather the not saying — of a prayer, and 
which forced them, often against their better judgments and 
natures, to join in the most determined resistance to lawful 
authority. The chief corrective of this evil. Dr. Arnold 
thought, was to be found among the boys; individual example 
and sympathetic encouragement upon the part of the masters, 
he felt were not sufficient to combat the evil. He determined, 
therefore, to improve and make use of the existing machinery 
of fagging, regarding it not only as an “efficient engine of dis- 
cipline,” but as an excellent means of increasing the moral 
respect which the boys of the Sixth Form were beginning to 
feel. The manly spirit which he thus aroused and developed 
in the older boys by intrusting to their hands important work 
and discipline, and by making them feel responsible in a large 
measure for the welfare of the school, was gradually diffused 
through the lower forms. 

The secret of his success in dealing with the boys of the 
Sixth Form, and in making, through it, his own influence felt 
among the boys of the entire school, may better be understood 
from the following typical address delivered before the boys 
of that class. After he had finished giving directions in regard 
to their studies, says Dean Stanley, he proceeded thus: — 

“I will now say a few words to you [the praepostors] as I 
promised. Speaking to you as to young men who can enter 
into what I say, I wish you to feel that you have another duty 
[besides that of study] to perform; holding the position that 
you do in the schools, of the importance of this, I wish you all 
to feel sensible, and of the enormous influence you possess, 
in ways which we cannot, for good or for evil on all below you; 
and I wish you to see fully how many and how great are the 
opportunities offered to you here, of doing good — good, too, 
of lasting benefit to yourselves as well as to others; there is 
no place where you will find better opportunities for some 
time to come, and you will then have reason to look back to 
your life here and with the greatest pleasure. You will soon 
find when you change your life here for that at the Univer- 
sities how very few in comparison they are there, however 
willing you may then be — at any rate during the first part 
of your life there. That there is good working in the school, 
I most fully believe^ and we cannot be too thankful for it; 


INTRODUCTION 


XIX 


in many individual instances in different parts of the school, 
I have seen the change from evil to good — to mention instances 
would of course be wrong. The state of the school is a subject 
of congratulation to us all, but only to encourage us to in- 
creased exertions, and I am sure we ought all to feel it a sub- 
ject of most sincere thankfulness to God; but we must not 
stop here; we must exert ourselves with earnest prayer to God 
for its continuance. And what I have often said before, I 
repeat now : what we must look for here is first, religious and 
moral principles; secondly, gentlemanly conduct; thirdly, 
intellectual ability.’’ 

Again in one of his sermons he says: — “I cannot deny that 
you [the praepostors] have an anxious duty — a duty which 
some might suppose was too heavy for your years. But it 
seems to me the nobler as well as the truer way, to say that it 
is the privilege of this and other such institutions to anticipate 
the common time of manhood; that by their whole training 
they fit the character for manly duties at an age wdien, under 
another system, such duties would be impracticable; that there 
is not imposed upon you too heavy a burden; but that you 
are capable of bearing without injury w^hat to others might 
be a burden; and therefore, to diminish your duties and to 
lessen your responsibility wmuld be no kindness but a degra- 
dation, an affront to the school.” 

Effective .as were all these devices and methods in carrying 
out the work of reform at Rugby, they wmuld have accom- 
plished little had they been practised by a less impressive, 
a less sympathetic, and a less skilful head-master. For, after 
all, his personality — his character — was the most potent 
factor in the increased intellectual, moral, and religious de- 
velopment w'hich marked the beginning of greater and better 
things at Rugby. How powerful was the influence of his 
personality is attested by the followdng facts : that in the 
classroom, the devotion to scholarship, which he inspired, 
outw^eighed in importance the instruction which he gave; 
that among the boys it was considered “a shame to tell Arnold 
a lie, because he always believed it;” that the effect of his 
impassioned sermons even upon the boys who only half under- 
stood them, outlasted long the memory of anything he ever 
said in the pulpit. Again, then, we would say that there was 
something about Dr. Arnold that was finer than anything 


XX 


INTRODUCTION 


he ever said or did — and that something was his sweet-spirited, 
earnest Christian character. 


CRITICAL COMMENT 

Tom Brownes School Days is an excellent story; it is humor- 
ous in touch; clever and vigorous in style, and wholesome 
in its devotion to truth and uprightness. With its genuine 
sympathy for boyhood, its quick succession of lively incidents, 
and its spirited descriptions of the games and contests which 
all boys love, the story deservedly makes a wide appeal to 
young people. 

Yet, excellent as the story in itself is, it fails to give a com- 
plete view of Rugby School as it was governed and directed 
by the greatest head-master in England — Dr. Thomas Arnold. 
Matthew Arnold, the distinguished son of Dr. Arnold, once 
complained that the book had been overpraised, because, 
he said, it gave only one side, and that not the best side, of 
Rugby schf)ol-life. A careful comparison of the story with 
Dean Stanley’s more accurate narrative. School Life at Rugby, 
will convince the reader that the criticism is not wholly ground- 
less. From the story we get the impression that Arnold’s 
chief concern was to make the boys entrusted to his care, 
healthy, happy, truthful, courageous, and religious; that he 
esteemed intellectual effort and attainment lightly, holding 
that the work of teaching was merely incidental. From 
Stanley we learn that, though the mainspring of Dr. Arnold’s 
motive was intensely ethical and religious, and though he 
desired nothing else so much as to make the boys of the school 
“really Christian gentlemen,” he did not, by any means, 
depreciate the value of study and instruction. He realized 
the importance and value of physical training and develop- 
ment, and he was an enthusiastic supporter of all the games 
and forms of exercise which he thought would contribute to 
health or stimulate clear thinking; but he encouraged them 
only as a means to the higher end of intellectual and moral 
progress. He wished to inspire in the boys a love of truth, 
valor, knowledge, and righteousness, and an abhorrence of 
all that was little, mean, or evil. This high end, he believed, 
could be attained only through effort and discipline. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXI 


That Dr. Arnold’s administration of school affairs at Rugby 
was charactfjrized by intense intellectual strain upon the part 
of the students, is attested by the high rank which Rugby 
boys took, when they afterward entered the colleges at Oxford. 

The one-sided view given by Hughes — who, in spite of 
his denial, the public still insists was Tom Brown — is not 
due to any irreverence or disrespect which he felt for Dr. 
Arnold, whom he loved and admired above all teachers; it 
is likely due, Mr. Fitch suggests, to the fact that Hughes was 
hindered by his love of mischief and spirit of adventure from 
coming into contact with the more earnest portions of the 
student body, with such boys as Arthur Hugh Clough and 
Matthew Arnold. 

In spite of the incomplete notion which the author unin- 
tentionally com'^eys, the book, well written and full of manly 
spirit and of reverence for the high-minded Arnold, is thor- 
oughly admirable. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Since a large measure of the interest in the story is in the 
school life reflected there — in the games and contests; in 
the social relations existing among the boys; in the studies 
which they pursued; in the ideals, bad and good, which they 
invented and by which they stood; and most of all in the 
important relation sustained toward them by their great 
head-master. Dr. Arnold, — it will be helpful to students 
who wish to enter fully into the spirit of the story to make 
use of the following books : — • 

Great Public iSc/iooZs, 'Thomas Hughes and Other Authors. 

The Great Schools of England, Howard Staunton. 

The Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold, Arthur 
Penryhn Stanley. 

Arnold of Rugby, T. T. Finalay. 

School Boy Life in Merrie England, Henry F. Reddall. 

Thomas and Matthew Arnold and Their Influence on Edu- 
cation, Sir Joshua Fitch. 

Rugby, H. C. Bradby. 

School Boy Life in England, John Corbin. 







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AUTHOR’S PREFACE 

TO THE SIXTH EDITION 

I RECEIVED the following letter from an old friend soon 
after the last edition of this book was published, and resolved, 
if ever another edition were called for, to print it. For it is 
clear from this and other like comments, that something more 
should have been said expressly on the subject of bullying, 
and how it is to be met. 

‘‘My dear , 

“I blame myself for not having earlier suggested whether 
you could not, in another edition of Tom Brown or another 
story, denounce more decidedly the evils of bullying at schools. 
You have indeed done so, and in the best way, by making 
Flashman the bully the most contemptible character; but in 
that scene of the tossing, and simdlar passages, you hardly 
suggest that such things should be stopped — and do not 
suggest any means of putting an end to them. 

“This subject has been on my mind for years. It fills me 
with grief and misery to think w'hat weak and nervous children 
go through at school — how their health and character for 
life are destroyed by rough and brutal treatment. 

“It was some comfort to be under the old delusion that 
fear and nervousness can be cured by violence, and that knock- 
ing about will turn a timid boy into a bold one. But now we 
know well enough that is not true. Gradually training a 
timid child to do bold acts would be most desirable; but 
frightening him and ill-treating him will not make him coura- 
geous. Every medical man knows the fatal effects of terror, 
or agitation, or excitement, to nerves that are oversensitive. 
There are different kinds of courage, as you have shown in 
your character of Arthur. 

xxiii 


XXIV 


AUTHOR'S PREFACE 


“A boy may have moral courage, and a finely organized 
brain and nervous system. Such a boy is calculated, if judi- 
ciously educated, to be a great, wise, and useful man; but 
he may not possess animal courage; and one night’s tossing, or 
bullying, may produce such an injury to his brain and nerves 
that his usefulness is spoiled for life. I verily believe that 
hundreds of noble organizations are thus destroyed every year. 
Horse-jockeys have learnt to be wiser; they know that a 
highly nervous horse is utterly destroyed by harshness. A 
groom who tried to cure a shying horse by roughness and 
violence would be discharged as a brute and a fool. A man 
who would regulate his watch with a crowbar would be con- 
sidered an ass. But the person who thinks a child of delicate 
and nervous organization can be made bold by bullying is 
no better. 

“He can be made bold by healthy exercise and games and 
sports; but that is quite a different thing. And even these 
games and sports should bear some proportion to his strength 
and capacities. 

“I very much doubt whether small children should play 
with big ones — the rush of a set of great fellows at football, 
or the speed of a cricket-ball sent by a strong hitter, must be 
very alarming to a mere child, to a child who might stand up 
boldly enough among children of his own size and height. 

“Look at half-a-dozen small children playing cricket by 
themselves; how feeble are their blows, how slowly they bowl. 
You can measure in that way their capacity. 

“Tom Brown and his eleven were bold enough playing 
against an eleven of about their own caliber; but I suspect 
they would have been in a precious funk if they had played 
against eleven giants, whose bowling bore the same proportion 
to theirs that theirs does to the small children’s above. 

“To return to the tossing. I must say 1 think some means 
might be devised to enable schoolboys to go to bed in quiet- 
ness and peace — and that some means ought to be devised 
and enforced. No good, moral or physical, to those who 
bully or those who are bullied, can ensue from such scenes 
as take place in the dormitories of schools. I suspect that 
British wisdom and ingenuity are sufficient to discover a remedy 
for this evil, if directed in the right direction. 

“The fact is, that the condition of a small boy at a large 


author's preface 


XXV 


school is one of peculiar hardship and suffering. He is entirely 
at the mercy of proverbially the roughest things in the universe 
— great schoolboys; and he is deprived of the protection 
which the weak have in civilized society ; for he may not 
complain; if he does, he is an outlaw — he has no protector 
but public opinion, and that a public opinion of the very lowest 
grade, the opinion of rude and ignorant boys. 

‘'What do schoolboys know of those deep questions of 
moral and physical philosophy, of the anatomy of mind and 
body, by which the treatment of a child should be regulated ? 

“Why should the laws of civilization be suspended for 
schools? Why should boys be left to herd together with 
no law but that of force or cunning? What would become 
of society if it were constituted on the same principles? It 
would be plunged into anarchy in a week. 

“One of our judges, not long ago, refused to extend the 
protection of the law to a child who had been ill-treated at 
school. If a party of navvies had given him a licking, and he 
had brought the case before a magistrate, what would he 
have thought if the magistrate had refused to protect him, 
on the ground that if such cases were brought before him he 
might have fifty a day from one town only? 

“Now I agree with you that a constant supervision of the 
master is not desirable or possible — and that telling tales, 
or constantly referring to the master for protection, would 
only produce ill-will and worse treatment. 

“ If I rightly understand your book, it is an effort to improve 
the condition of schools by improving the tone of morality 
and public opinion in them. But your book contains the most 
indubitable proofs that the condition of the younger boys at 
public schools, except under the rare dictatorship of an old 
Brooke, is one of great hardship and suffering. 

“A timid and nervous boy is from morning till night in a 
state of bodily fear. He is constantly tormented when trying 
to learn his lessons. His play-hours are occupied in fagging, 
in a horrid funk of cricket-balls and footballs, and the violent 
sport of creatures who, to him, are giants. He goes to his 
bed in fear and trembling, — worse than the reality of the 
rough treatment to which he is perhaps subjected. 

“I believe there is only one complete remedy. It is not 
in magisterial supervision; nor in telling tales; nor in raising 


XXVI 


AUTHOR'S PREFACE 


the tone of public opinion among schoolboys — but in the 
separation of boys of different ages into different schools. 

“There should be at least three different classes of schools, 
— the first for boys from nine to twelve; the second for boys 
from twelve to fifteen; the third for those above fifteen. And 
these schools should be in different localities. 

“There ought to be a certain amount of supervision by the 
master at those times when there are special occasions for 
bullying, e.g. in the long winter evenings, and when the boys 
are congregated together in the bedrooms. Surely it cannot 
be an impossibility to keep order and protect the weak at such 
times. Whatever evils might arise from supervision, they 
could hardly be greater than those produced by a system which 
divides boys into despots and slaves. 

“ Ever yours, very truly, 

“ F. D.” 

The question of how to adapt English public school educa- 
tion to nervous and sensitive boys (often the highest and 
noblest subjects which that education has to deal with) ought 
to be looked at from every point of view.^ I therefore add 
a few extracts from the letter of an old friend and school- 
fellow, than whom no man in England is better able to speak 
on the subject. 

“What’s the use of sorting the boys by ages, unless you do 
so by strength : and who are often the real bullies ? The strong 
young dog of fourteen, while the victim may be one year or 
two years older. ... I deny the fact about the bedrooms; 
there is trouble at times, and always will be; but so there is 
in nurseries; — my little girl, who looks like an angel, was 
bullying the smallest twice to-day. 

’ For those who believe with me in public school education, the 
fact stated in the following extract from a note of Mr. G. De Bunsen 
■w'ill be hailed with pleasure, especially now that our alliance with 
Prussia (the most natural and healthy European alliance for Protes- 
tant England) is likely to be so much stronger and deeper than here- 
tofore. Speaking of this book, he says, — “The author is mistaken 
in saying that public schools, in the English sense, are peculiar to 
England. Schul Pforte (in the Prussian province of Saxony) is 
similar in antiquity and institutions. I like his book all the more 
for having been tliere for five years.” 


AUTHOR^ S PREFACE 


XXVll 


“ Bullying must be fought with in other ways, — by getting 
not only the Sixth to put it down, but the lower fellows to 
scorn it, and by eradicating mercilessly the incorrigible; and 
a master who really cares for his fellows is pretty sure to know 
instinctively who in his house are likely to be bullied, and, 
knowing a fellow to be really victimized and harassed, I am 
sure that he can stop it if he is resolved. There are many 
kinds of annoyance — sometimes of real cutting persecution 
for righteousness’ sake — that he can’t stop; no more could 
all the ushers in the world; but he can do very much in many 
ways to make the shafts of the wicked pointless. 

“But though, for quite other reasons, I don’t like to see 
very young boys launched at a public school, and though 
I don’t deny (I wish I could) the existence from time to time 
of bullying, I deny its being a constant condition of school 
life, and still more, the possibility of meeting it by the means 
proposed. . . . 

“I don’t wish to understate the amount of bullying that 
goes on, but my conviction is that it must be fought, like all 
school evils, but it more than any, by dynamics rather than 
mechanics, by getting the fellows to respect themselves and 
one another, rather than by sitting by them with a thick stick.” 

And now, having broken my resolution never to write a 
Preface, there are just two or three things which I should like 
to say a word about. 

Several persons, for whose judgment I have the highest 
respect, while saying very kind things about this book, have 
added, that the great fault of it is “too much preaching”; 
ljut they hope I shall amend in this matter should I ever write 
again. Now this I most distinctly decline to do. Why, 
my whole object in writing at all was to get the chance of 
preaching ! When a man comes to my time of life and has his 
bread to make, and very little time to spare, is it likely that 
he will spend almost the whole of his yearly vacation in writ- 
ing a story just to amuse people ? I think not. At any rate, 
I wouldn’t do so myself. 

The fact is, that I can scarcely ever call on one of my con- 
temporaries nowadays without running across a boy already 
at school, or just ready to go there, whose bright looks and 
supple limbs remind me of his father, and our first meeting 


xxviii AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

in old times. I can scarcely keep the Latin Grammar out of 
my own house any longer: and the sight of sons, nephews, 
and godsons, playing trap-bat-and-ball and reading “Robinson 
Crusoe,” makes one ask one’s self whether there isn’t something 
one would like to say to them before they take their first plunge 
into the stream of life, away from their own homes, or while 
they are yet shivering after the first plunge. My sole object 
in writing was to preach to boys : if ever I write again, it will 
be to preach to some other age. I can’t see that a man has 
any business to write at all unless he has something which he 
thoroughly believes and wants to preach about. If he has 
this, and the chance of delivering himself of it, let him by all 
means put it in the shape in which it will be most likely to 
get a hearing ; but let him never be so carried away as to forget 
that preaching is his object. 

A black soldier in a West Indian regiment, tied up to receive 
a couple of dozen for drunkenness, cried out to his captain, 
who was exhorting him to sobriety in future, “Cap’n, if you 
preachee, preachee; and if floggee, floggee; but no preachee 
and floggee too!” to which his captain might have replied, 
“No, Pompey, I must preach whenever I see a chance of 
being listened to, which I never did before; so now you must 
have it altogether; and I hope you may remember some of it.” 

There is one point which has been made by several of the 
Reviewers who have noticed this book, and it is one which, 
as I am writing a Preface, I cannot pass over. They have 
stated that the Rugby undergraduates they remember at the 
Universities were “a solemn array,” “boys turned into men 
before their time,” “a semi-political, semi-sacerdotal fra- 
ternity,” &c,, giving the idea that Arnold turned out a set 
of young square-toes who wore long-fingered black gloves 
and talked with a snuffle. I can only say that their acquaint- 
ance must have been limited and exceptional. For I am sure 
that every one who has had anything like large or continuous 
knowledge of boys brought up at Rugby, from the times of 
which this book treats down to this day, will bear me out in 
saying, that the mark by which you may know them, is, their 
genial and hearty freshness and youthfulness of character. 
They lose nothing of the boy that is worth keeping, but build 
up the man upon it. This is their differentia as Rugby boys; 
and if they never had it, or have lost it, it must be not because 


AUTHOR'S PREFACE 


XXIX 


they were at Rugby, but in spite of their having been there; 
the stronger it is in them the more deeply you may be sure 
have they drunk of the spirit of their school. 

But this boyishness in the highest sense is not incompatible 
with seriousness, — or earnestness, if you like the word better.^ 
Quite the contrary. And I can well believe that casual ob- 
servers, who have never been intimate with Rugby boys of 
the true stamp, but have met them only in the everyday 
society of the Universities, at wines, breakfast parties, and 
the like, may have seen a good deal more of the serious or 
earnest side of their characters than of any other. For the 
more the boy was alive in them, the less will they have been 
able to conceal their thoughts, or their opinion of what was 
taking place under their noses; and if the greater part of 
that didn’t square with their notions of what was right, very 
likely they showed pretty clearly that it did not, at whatever 
risk of being taken for young prigs. They may be open to 
the charge of having old heads on young shoulders; I think 
they are, and always were, as long as I can remember; but so 
long as they have young hearts to keep head and shoulders 
in order, I, for one, must think this only a gain. 

And what gave Rugby boys this character, and has enabled 
the School, I believe, to keep it to this day? I say fearlessly, 
— Arnold’s teaching and example — above all, that part of 
it which has been, I will not say sneered at, but certainly not 
approved — his unwearied zeal in creating “moral thought- 
fulness” in every boy with whom he came into personal contact. 

He certainly did teach us — thank God for it ! — that we 
could not cut our life into slices and say, “In this slice your 
actions are indifferent, and you needn’t trouble your heads 
about them one way or another; but in this slice mind what 
you are about, for they are important ” — a pretty muddle 
we should have been in had he done so. He taught us that 
in this wonderful world, no boy or man can tell which of his 
actions is indifferent and which not; that by a thoughtless 
word or look we may lead astray a brother for whom Christ 
died. He taught us that life is a whole, made up of actions 

^ “To him (Arnold) and his admirers we owe the substitution of 
the word ‘earnest’ for its predecessor ‘serious.’” — Edinburgh Re- 
view, No. 217, p. 183. 


XXX 


AUTHOR'S PREFACE 


and thoughts and longings, great and small, noble and ignoble; 
therefore the only true wisdom for boy or man is to bring 
the whole life into obedience to Him whose world we live in, 
and who has purchased us with His blood; and that whether 
we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, we are to do all in His 
name and to His glory; in such teaching, faithfully, as it 
seems to me, following that of Paul of Tarsus, who was in the 
habit of meaning what he said, and who laid down this standard 
for every man and boy in his time. I think it lies with those 
who say that such teaching will not do for us now, to show 
why a teacher in the nineteenth century is to preach a lower 
standard than one in the first. 

However, I won’t say that the Reviewers have not a certain 
plausible ground for their dicta. For a short time after a boy 
has taken up such a life as Arnold would have urged upon him, 
he has a hard time of it. He finds his judgment often at fault, 
his body and intellect running away with him into all sorts 
of pitfalls, and himself coming down with a crash. The more 
seriously he buckles to his work the oftener these mischances 
seem to happen; and in the dust of his tumbles and struggles, 
unless he is a very extraordinary boy, he may often be too 
severe on his comrades, may think he sees evil in things in- 
nocent, may give offence when he never meant it. At this 
stage of his career, I take it, our Reviewer comes across him, 
and, not looking below the surface (as a Reviewer ought to 
do), at once sets the poor boy down for a prig and a Pharisee, 
when in all likelihood he is one of the humblest and truest 
and most childlike of the Reviewer’s acquaintance. 

But let our Reviewer come across him again in a year or 
two, when the “thoughtful life” has become habitual to him, 
and fits him as easily as his skin; and, if he be honest, I think 
he vvull see cause to reconsider his judgment. For he will find 
the boy grown into a man, enjoying everyday life, as no man 
can who has not found out whence comes the capacity for 
enjoyment, and Who is the Giver of the least of the good 
things of this world — humble, as no man can be who has not 
proved his own powerlessness to do right in the smallest act 
which he ever had to do — tolerant, as no man can be who 
does not live daily and hourly in the knowledge of how Perfect 
Love is forever about his path, and bearing with and up- 
holding him. 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 



TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 

BY AN OLD boy' 


PART I 

CHAPTER I 

“ I’m the Poet of White Horse Vale, Sir, 

With liberal notions under my cap.” — Ballad. 

The Browns® have become illustrious by the pen of Thackeray 
and the pencil of Doyle, ° within the memory of the young 
gentlemen who are now matriculating at the Universities. 
Notwithstanding the well-merited but late fame which has 
now fallen upon them, any one at all acquainted with the family 5 
must feel, that much has yet to be written and said before the 
British nation will be properly sensible of how much of its 
greatness it owes to the Browns. For centuries, in their quiet, 
dogged, homespun way, they have been subduing the earth in 
most English counties, and leaving their mark in American 10 
forests and Australian uplands. Wherever the fleets and 
armies of England have won renown, there stalwart sons of the 
Browns have done yeomen’s work. With the yew bow and 
cloth-yard shaft at Cressy° and Agincourt® — with the brown 
bill and pike under the brave Lord Willoughby® — with 15 
culverin® and demi-culverin against Spaniards and Dutchmen 
— with hand-grenade® and sabre, and musket and bayonet, 
under Rodney and St. Vincent, Wolfe and Moore, Nelson and 
Wellington,® they have carried their lives in their hands; 
getting hard knocks and hard work in plenty, which was on the 20 
whole what they looked for, and the best thing for them; and 
little praise or pudding, which indeed they, and most of us, 
are better without. Talbots and Stanleys, St. Maurs, and 

1 


B 


2 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


such-like folk, have led armies and made laws time out of 
mind; but those noble families would be somewhat astounded 
— if the accounts ever came to be fairly taken — to find how 
small their work for England has been by the side of that of 
5 the Browns. 

These latter, indeed, have until the present generation rarely 
been sung by poet, or chronicled by sage. They have wanted 
their “Sacer vates,” ° having been too solid to rise to the top by 
themselves, and not having been largely gifted with the talent 
lo of catching hold of, and holding on tight to, whatever good 
things happened to be going, — the foundation of the fortunes 
of so many noble families. But the world goes on its way, and 
the wheel turns, and the wrongs of the Browns, like other 
wrongs, seem in a fair way to get righted. And this present 
15 writer having for many years of his life been a devout Brown- 
worshipper, and moreover having the honour of being nearly 
connected with an eminently respectable branch of the great 
Brown family, is anxious, so far as in him lies, to help the wheel 
over, and throw his stone on to the pile. 

20 However, gentle reader, or simple reader, whichever you 
may be, lest you should be led to waste your precious time 
upon these pages, I make so bold as at once to tell you the sort 
of folk you’ll have to meet and put up with, if you and I are 
to jog on comfortably together. You shall hear at once what 
25 sort of folk the Browns are, at least my branch of them; and 
then, if you don’t like the sort, why cut the concern at once, 
and let you and 1° cry quits before either of us can grumble at 
the other. 

In the first place, the Browns are a fighting family. One 
30 may question their wisdom, or wit, or beauty, but about their 
fight there can be no question. Wherever hard knocks of any 
kind, visible or invisible, are going, there the Brown who is 
nearest must shove in his carcass. And these carcasses for 
the most part answer very well to the characteristic propensity; 
35 they are a square-headed and snake-necked generation, broad 
in the shoulder, deep in the chest, and thin in the flank, carry- 
ing no lumber. Then for clanship, they are as bad as High- 
landers; it is amazing the belief they have in one another. 
With them there is nothing like the Browns, to the third and 
40 fourth generation. ‘‘Blood is thicker than water,” is one of 
their pet sayings. They can’ t be happy unless they are always 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


3 


meeting one another. Never were such people for family 
gatherings, which, were you a stranger, or sensitive, you might 
think had better not have been gathered together. For during 
the whole time of their being together they luxuriate in telling 
one another their minds on whatever subject turns up; and 5 
their minds are wonderfully antagonistic, and all their opinions 
are downright beliefs. Till youVe been among them some 
time and understand them, you can't think but that they are 
quarrelling. Not a bit of it : they love and respect one another 
ten times the more after a good set family arguing bout, and 10 
go back, one to his curacy, another to his chambers, and 
another to his regiment, freshened for work, and more than 
ever convinced that the Browns are the height of company. 

This family training too, combined with their turn for com- 
bativeness, makes them eminently quixotic. They can’t let 15 
anything alone which they think going wrong. They must 
speak their mind about it, annoying all easj^-going folk; and 
spend their time and money in having a tinker at it, however 
hopeless the job. It is an impossibility to a Brown to leave the 
most disreputable lame dog on the other side of a stile. Most 20 
other folk get tired of such work. The old Browns, with red 
faces, white whiskers, and bald heads, go on believing and 
fighting to a green old age. They have always a crotchet 
going, till the old man with the scythe reaps and garners them 
away for troublesome old boys as the}'' are. 25 

And the most provoking thing is, that no failures knock 
them up, or make them hold their hands, or think you, or me, 
or other sane people in the right. Failures slide off them like 
July rain off a duck’s back feathers. Jem and his whole 
family turn out bad, and cheat them one week, and the next 30 
they are doing the same thing for Jack; and when he goes to 
the treadmill, and his wife and children to the workhouse, they 
will be on the lookout for Bill to take his place. 

However, it is time for us to get from the general to the 
particular; so, leaving the great army of Browns, who areas 
scattered over the whole empire on which the sun never sets, 
and whose general diffusion I take to be the chief cause of that 
empire’s stability, let us at once fix our attention upon the 
small nest of Browns in which our hero was hatched, and 
which dwelt in that portion of the Royal county of Berks® 40 
which is called the Vale of White Horse. 


4 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


Most of you have probably travelled down the Great Western 
Railway as far as Swindon. Those of you who did so with their 
eyes open, have been aware, soon after leaving the Didcot 
station, of a fine range of chalk hills running parallel with the 
5 railway on the left-hand side as you go down, and distant some 
two or three miles, more or less, from the line. The highest 
point in the range is the White Horse Hill, which you come in 
front of just before you stop at the Shrivenham station. If you 
love English sdenery and have a few hours to spare, you can’t 
lo do better, the next time you pass, than stop at the Farringdon- 
road or Shrivenham station, and make your way to that highest 
point. And those who care for the vague old stories that haunt 
country-sides all about England, will not, if they are wise, be 
content with only a few hours’ stay : for, glorious as the view is, 
15 the neighbourhood is yet more interesting for its relics of 
bygone times. I only know two English neighbourhoods 
thoroughly, and in each, within a circle of five miles, there is 
enough of interest and beauty to last any reasonable man his 
life. I believe this to be the case almost throughout the 
20 country, but each has a special attraction, and none can be 
richer than the one I am speaking of and going to introduce 
you to very particularly; for on this subject I must be prosy; 
so those that don’t care for England in detail may skip the 
chapter. 

25 Oh young England ! young England ! You who are born 
into these racing railroad times, when there’s a Great Exhibi- 
tion, or some monster sight, every year ; and you can get over 
a couple of thousand miles of ground for three pound ten, in 
a five weeks’ holiday; why don’t you know more of your own 
30 birthplaces ? You’re all in the ends of the earth, it seems to 
me, as soon as you get your necks out of the educational collar, 
for midsummer holidays, long vacations, or what not. Going 
round Ireland with a return ticket, in a fortnight; dropping 
your copies of Tennyson on the tops of Swiss mountains; or 
35 pulling down the Danube in Oxford racing-boats. And when 
you get home for a quiet fortnight, you turn the steam off, and 
lie on your backs in the paternal garden, surrounded by the 
last batch of books from Mudie’s library,® and half bored to 
death. Well, well ! I know it has its good side. You all 
40 patter French more or less, and perhaps German; you have 
seen men and cities, no doubt, and have your opinions, such as 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


5 


they are, about schools of painting, high art, and all that; 
have seen the pictures at Dresden and the Louvre,® and know 
the taste of. sour krout. All I say is, you don’t know your own 
lanes and woods and fields. Though you may be chockful of 
science, not one in twenty of you knows where to find the wood- 5 
sorrel, or bee-orchis, which grow in the next wood, or on the 
down three miles off, or what the bog-bean and wood-sage are 
good for. And as for the country legends, the stories of the 
old gable-ended farmhouses, the place where the last skirmish 
was fought in the civil wars, jvhere the parish butts® stood, 10 
where the last highwayman turned to bay, where the last ghost 
was laid by the parson, they’re gone out of date altogether. 

Now, in my time, when we got home by the old coach, which 
put us down at the cross-roads with our boxes, the first day of 
the holidays, and had been driven off by the family coachman, 15 
singing “Dulce domum”® at the top of our voices, there we 
were, fixtures, till black Monday came round. We had to cut 
out our own amusements within a walk or a ride of home. And 
so we got to know all the country folk, and their ways and 
songs and stories, by heart ; and went over the fields, and 20 
woods, and hills, again and again, till we made friends of them 
all. We were Berkshire, or Gloucestershire, or Yorkshire boys; 
and you’re young cosmopolites, belonging to all counties and 
no countries. No doubt it’s all right, 1 dare say it is. This is 
the day of large views and glorious humanity, and all that; 25 
but I wish back-sword play hadn’t gone out in the Vale of 
White Horse, and that that confounded Great Western hadn’t 
carried away Alfred’s Hill to make an embankment. 

But to return to the said Vale of White Horse, the country 
in which the first scenes of this true and interesting story are 30 
laid. As I said, the Great Western now runs right through it, 
and it is a land of large rich pastures, bounded by ox-fences, 
and covered with fine hedgerow timber, with here and there a 
nice little gorse or spinney, where abideth poor Charley,® having 
no other cover to which to betake himself for miles and miles, 35 
when pushed out some fine November morning by the Old 
Berkshire. Those who have been there, and well mounted, 
only know how he and the staunch little pack who dash after 
him — heads high and sterns low, with a breast-high scent — 
can consume the ground at such times. There being little 40 
ploughland, and few woods, the Vale is only an average sport- 


6 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


ing country, except for hunting. The villages are straggling, 
queer, old-fashioned places, the houses being dropped down 
without the least regularity, in nooks and out-of-the-way 
corners, by the sides of shadowy lanes and footpaths, each 
5 with its patch of garden. They are built chiefly of good gray 
stone and thatched; though I see that within the la.st year or 
two the red-brick cottages are multiplying, for the Vale is begin- 
ning to manufacture largely both brick and tiles. There are 
lots of waste ground by the side of the roads in every village, 
lo amounting often to village greens, where feed the pigs and 
ganders of the people ; and these roads are old-fashioned homely 
roads, very dirty and badly made, and hardly endurable in win- 
ter, but still pleasant jog-trot roads running through the great 
pasture lands, dotted here and there with little clumps of thorns, 
15 where the sleek kine are feeding, with no fence on either side of 
them, and a gate at the end of each field, which makes you get 
out of your gig (if you keep one), and gives you a chance of 
looking about you every quarter of a mile. 

One of the moralists whom we sat under in my youth, — 
20 was it the great Richard Swiveller, or Mr. Stiggins°? — says, 
‘‘We are born in a vale, and must take the consequences of 
being found in such a situation.” These consequences, I for 
one am ready to encounter. I pity people who weren’t born 
in a vale. I don’t mean a flat country, but a vale: that is, 
25 a flat country bounded by hills. The having yoUr hill always 
in view if you choose to turn towards him, that’s the essence 
of a vale. There he is for ever in the distance, your friend and 
companion; you never lose him as jmu do in hilly districts. 

And then what a hill is the White Horse Hill ! There it 
30 stands right up above all the rest, nine hundred feet above the 
sea, and the boldest, bravest shape for a chalk hill that you 
ever saw. Let us go up to the top of him, and see what is to be 
found there. Ay, you may well wonder and think it odd you 
never heard of this before ; but, wonder or not, as you please, 
35 there are hundreds of such things lying about England, which 
wiser folks than you know nothing of, and care nothing for. 
Yes, it’s a magnificent Roman camp, and no mistake, with 
gates and ditch and mounds, all as complete as it was twenty 
years after the strong old rogues left it. Here, right up on the 
40 highest point, from which they say you can see eleven counties, 
they trenched round all the table-land, some twelve or fourteen 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL BAYS 


1 


acres, as was their custom, for they couldn’t bear anybody to 
overlook them, and made their eyrie. The ground falls away 
rapidly on all sides. Was there ever such turf in the whole 
world? You sink up to your ankles at every step, and yet 
the spring of it is delicious. There is always a breeze in the 5 
“camp,” as it is called; and here it lies, just as the Romans 
left it, except that cairn on the east side, left by her Majesty’s 
corps of Sappers ° and Miners the other day, when they and the 
Engineer officer had finished their sojourn there, and their 
surveys for the Ordnance Map® of Berkshire. It is altogether 10 
a place that you won’t forget, — a place to open a man’s soul 
and make him prophesy, as he looks down on that great Vale 
spread out as the garden of the Lord before him, and wave on 
wave of the mysterious downs behind; and to the right and 
left the chalk hills running away into the distance, along which 15 
he can trace for miles the old Roman road, “the Ridgeway” 
(“the Rudge” as the country folk call it), keeping straight 
along the highest back of the hills ; — such a place as Balak 
brought Balaam® to and told him to prophesy against the people 
in the valley beneath. And he could not, neither shall you, for 20 
they are a people of the Lord who abide there. 

And now we leave the camp, and descend towards the west, 
and are on the Ashdown.® We are treading on heroes. It is 
sacred ground for Englishmen, more sacred than all but one or 
two fields wdiere their bones lie whitening. For this is the 25 
actual place where our Alfred won his great battle, the battle of 
Ashdown (“^scendum” in the chroniclers), which broke the 
Danish power, and made England a Christian land. The 
Danes held the camp and the slope where we are standing — 
the whole crown of the hill in fact. “ The heathen had before- 30 
hand seized the higher ground,” as old Asser® says, having 
wasted everything behind them from London, and being just 
ready to burst down on the fair vale, Alfred’s own birthplace 
and heritage. And up the heights came the Saxons, as they 
did at the Alma.® “The Christians led up their line from the 35 
lower ground. There stood also on that same spot a single 
thorn-tree, marvellous stumpy (which we ourselves with our 
very own eyes have seen).” Bless the old chronicler ! does he 
think nobody ever saw the “single thorn-tree” but himself? 
Why, there it stands to this very day, just on the edge of the 4 ^ 
slope, and I saw it not three weeks since; an old single thorn- 


8 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


tree, ‘'marvellous stumpy.” At least if it isn’t the same tree, 
it ought to have been, for it’s just in the place where the battle 
must have been won or lost — “ around which, as I was saying, 
the two lines of foemen came together in battle with a huge 
5 shout. And in this place, one of the two kings of the heathen 
and five of his earls fell down and died, and many thousands of 
the heathen side in the same place.” ‘ After which crowning 
mercy, the pious King, that there might never be wanting a sign 
and a memorial to the country-side, carved out on the northern 
lo side of the chalk hill, under the camp, where it is almost precipi- 
tous, the great Saxon white horse, which he who will may see 
from the railway, and w^hich gives its name to the vale, over 
which it has looked these thousand years and more. 

Right down below the White Horse is a curious deep and 
15 broad gully called “the Manger,” into one side of which the 
hills fall with a series of the most lovely sweeping curves, known 
as “the Giant’s Stairs”; they are not a bit like stairs, but I 
never saw anything like them anywhere else, with their short 
green turf, and tender bluebells, and gossamer and thistle- 
20 down gleaming in the sun, and the sheep-paths running along 
their sides like ruled lines. 

The other side of the Manger is formed by the Dragon’s Hill, 
a curious little round self-confident fellow, thrown forward 
from the range, utterly unlike everything round him. On this 
25 hill some deliverer of mankind, St. George,® the country folk 
used to tell me, killed a dragon. Whether it were St. George, 
I cannot say; but surely a dragon was killed there, for you may 
see the marks yet where his blood ran down, and more by token 
the place where it ran down is the easiest way up the hillside. 
20 Passing along the Ridgeway to the west for about a mile, we 

* “Pagani editiorem locum praeoccupaverant. Christiani ab in- 
feriori loco aciem dirigebant. Erat quoque in eodem loco unica 
spinosa arbor, brevis admodum (quam nos ipsi nostris propriis oculis 
vidimus). Circa quam ergo hostiles inter se acies cum ingenti clamore 
hostiliter conveniunt. Quo in loco alter de duobus Paganorum 
regibus et quinque comites occisi occubuerunt, et multn millia Paganse 
partis in codem loco. Cecidit illic ergo Boegseeg Rex, et Sidroc ille 
senex comes, et Sidroc Junior comes, et Obsbern comes,” etc. — 
Annates Rerum Gestarum Aelfredi Magni, Auefore Ass^rio, Recensuit 
Franciscus Wise. Oxford, 1722 , p. 23 , 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


9 


come to a little clump of young beech and firs, with a growth of 
thorn and privet underwood. Here you may find nests of the 
strong down partridge and peewit, but take care that the 
keeper isn’t down upon you; and in the middle of it is an old 
cromlech, a huge flat stone raised on seven or eight others, and 5 
led up to by a path, with large single stones set up on each side. 
This is Wayland Smith’s cave,° a place of classic fame now; 
but as Sir Walter has touched it, I may as well let it alone, and 
refer you to Kenilworth for the legend. 

The thick deep wood which you see in the hollow, about a 10 
mile off, surrounds Ashdown Park, built by Inigo Jones. ° 
Four broad alleys are cut through the wood from circum- 
ference to centre, and each leads to one face of the house. The 
mystery of the downs hangs about house and wood, as they 
stand there alone, so unlike all around, with the green slopes 15 
studded with great stones just about this part, stretching away 
on all sides. It was a wise Lord Craven, I think, who pitched 
his tent there. 

Passing along the Ridgeway to the east, we soon come to 
cultivated land. The downs, strictly so called, are no more; 20 
Lincolnshire farmers have been imported, and the long fresh 
slopes are sheep-walks no more, but grow famous turnips and 
barley. One of these improvers lives over there at the Seven 
Barrows” farm, another mystery of the great downs. There 
are the barrows still, solemn and silent, like ships in the calm 25 
sea, the sepulchres of some sons of men. But of whom? It is 
three miles from the White Horse, too far for the slain of Ash- 
down to be buried there — who shall say what heroes are wait- 
ing there? But we must get down into the vale again, and so 
away by the Great Western Railway to town, for time and the 30 
printer’s devil press, and it is a terrible long and slippery de- 
scent, and a shocking bad road. At the bottom, however, 
there is a pleasant public, whereat we must really take a 
modest quencher, for the down air is provocative of thirst. 

So we pull up under an old oak which stands before the door. 35 
‘‘What is the name of your hill, landlord?” 

‘‘Blawing Stw^un Hill, sir, to be sure.” 

[Reader. Sturm?” 

Author. Stone, stupid: the Blowing Stone.”'] 

“And of your house? I can’t make out the sign.” 40 

“Blawing Stwun, sir,” says the landlord, pouring out his old 


10 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


ale from a Toby Philpot jug,° with a melodious crash, into the 
long-necked glass. 

‘‘What queer names!’’ say we, sighing at the end of our 
draught, and holding out the glass to be replenished. 

5 “ Be’ant queer at all, as 1 can see, sir,” says mine host, 

handing back our glass, “seeing as this here is the Blawing 
Stwun his self,” putting his hand on a square lump of stone, 
some three feet and a half high, perforated with two or three 
queer holes, like petrified antediluvian rat-holes, which lies 
lo there close under the oak, under our very nose. We are more 
than ever puzzled, and drink our second glass of ale, wondering 
what will come next. “ Like to hear un, sir,” says mine host, 
setting down Toby Philpot on the tray, and resting both hands 
on the “ Stwun.” We are ready for anything; and he, without 
j 5 waiting for a reply, applies his mouth to one of the rat-holes. 
Something must come of it, if he doesn’t burst. Good heavens 1 
I hope he has no apoplectic tendencies. Yes, here it comes, 
sure enough, a grewsome sound between a moan and a roar, and 
spreads itself away over the valley, and up the hillside, and 
20 into the woods at the back of the house, a ghost-like awful 
voice. “ Um do say, sir,” says mine host, rising purple-faced, 
while the moan is still coming out of the Stwun, “ as they used 
in old times to warn the country-side, by blawing the Stwun 
when the enemy was a cornin’ — and as how folks could make 
25 un heered then for seven mile round; leastways, so Pve heered 
Lawyer Smith say, and he knows a smart sight about them 
old times.” We can hardly swallow Lawyer Smith’s seven 
miles, but could the blowing of the stone have been a summons, 
a sort of sending the fiery cross round the neighbourhood in the 
30 old times? What old times? Who knows? We pay for our 
beer, and are thankful. 

“And what’s the name of the village just below, landlord?” 

“Kingston Lisle, sir.” 

“Fine plantations you’ve got here?” 

35 “Yes, sir, the Squire’s ’mazing fond of trees and such like.” 

“No wonder. He’s got some real beauties to be fond of. 
Good day, landlord.” 

“Good day, sir, and a pleasant ride to ’e.” 

And now, my boys, you whom I want to get for readers, 
40 have you had enough? Will you give in at once, and say you’re 
convinced, and let me begin my story, or will you have more 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


11 


of it? Remember, IVe only been over a little bit of the hill- 
side yet, what you could ride round easily on your ponies in 
an hour. I'm only just come down into the vale, by Blowing 
Stone Hill; and if I once begin about the vale, what’s to stop 
me? You’ll have to hear all about Wantage, the birthplace 5 
of Alfred, and Farringdon, which held out so long for Charles 
the First (the vale was near Oxford, and dreadfully malignant; 
full of Throgmortons, Puseys, and Pyes, and such like, and 
their brawny retainers). Did you ever read Thomas Ingolds- 
by’s ‘‘Legend® of Hamilton Tighe”? If you haven’t, you 10 
ought to have. Well, Farringdon is where he lived, before he 
went to sea; his real name was Hamden Pye, and the Pyes 
were the great folk at Farringdon. Then there’s Pusey. 
You’ve heard of the Pusey horn, which King Canute gave to 
the Puseys of that day, and which the gallant old squire, 15 
lately gone to his rest (whom Berkshire freeholders turned out 
of last Parliament, to their eternal disgrace, for voting accord- 
ing to his conscience), used to bring out on high days, liolidays, 
and bonfire nights. And the splendid old Cross' church at 
Uffington, the Uffingas town ; — how the whole country-side 20 
teems with Saxon names and memories ! And the old moated 
grange® at Compton, nestled close under the hillside, where 
twenty Marianas® may have lived, with its bright water-lilies 
in the moat, and its yew walk, “the Cloister walk,” and its 
peerless terraced gardens. There they all are, and twenty 25 
things beside, for those who care about them, and have eyes. 
And these are the sort of things you may find, I believe, every 
one of you, in any common English country neighbourhood. 

Will you look for them under your own noses, or will you 
not? Well, well; I’ve done what I can to make you, and if 30 
you will go gadding over half Europe now every holidays, I 
can’t help it. I was born and bred a West-countryman, 
thank God ! a Wessex man, a citizen of the noblest Saxon 
kingdom of Wessex, a regular “Angular Saxon,” the very soul 
of me “adscriptus glebie.”® There’s nothing like the old 35 
country-side for me, and no music like the twang® of the real 
old Saxon tongue, as one gets it fresh from the veritable chaw 
in the White Horse Vale: and I say with “Gaarge Ridler,” 
the old West-country yeoman, 

“Throo aall the waarld owkl Gaarge would bwoast, 40 

Commend me to merry owld England mwoast : 


12 TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


While vools gwoes prating vur and nigh, 

We stwops at whum, my dog and I.” 

Here at any rate lived and stopped at home, Squire Brown, 
J.P. for the county of Berks, in a village near the foot of the 
5 White Horse range. And here he dealt out injustice and mercy 
in a rough way, and begat sons and daughters, and hunted the 
fox, and grumbled at the badness of the roads and the times. 
And his wife dealt out stockings, and calico shirts, and smock 
frocks, and comforting drinks to the old folks with the ‘‘rheu- 
lo matiz,” and good counsel to all; and kept the coal and clothes 
clubs going, for yule-tide, when the bands of mummers® came 
round, dressed out in ribbons and coloured paper caps, and 
stamped round the squire’s kitchen, repeating in true sing- 
song vernacular the legend of St. George and his fight, and the 
15 ten-pound Doctor who plays his part at healing the Saint, — a 
relic, I believe, of the old Middle-Age mysteries. It was the 
first dramatic representation which greeted the eyes of little 
Tom, who was brought down into the kitchen by his nurse to 
witness it, at the mature age of three years. Tom was the 
20 eldest child of his parents, and from his earliest babyhood 
exhibited the family characteristics in great strength. He 
was a hearty strong boy from the first, given to fighting with 
and escaping from his nurse, and fraternizing with all the village 
boys, with whom he made expeditions all round the neighbour- 
25 hood. And here in the quiet old-fashioned country village, 
under the shadow of the everlasting hills, Tom Brown was 
reared, and never left it till he went first to school when nearly 
eight years of age, — for in those days change of air twice a 
year was not thought absolutely necessary for the health of 
30 all her Majesty’s lieges. 

I have been credibly informed, and am inclined to believe, 
that the various Boards of Directors of Railway Companies, 
those gigantic jobbers and bribers, while quarrelling about 
everything else, agreed together some ten years back to buy up 
35 the learned profession of Medicine, body and soul. To this 
end they set apart several millions of money, which they con- 
tinually distribute judiciously amongst the Doctors, stipulating 
only this one thing, that they shall prescribe change of air to 
every patient who can pay, or borrow money to pay, a railway 
40 fare, and see their prescription carried out. If it be not for 
this, why is it that none of us can be well at home for a year 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


13 


together? It wasn’t so twenty years ago, — not a bit of it. 
The Browns didn’t go out of the county once in five years. A 
visit to Reading or Abingdon® twice a year, at Assizes or 
Quarter Sessions, which the squire made on his horse with a 
pair of saddle-bags containing his wardrobe — a stay of a day 5 
or two at some country neighbour’s — or an expedition to a 
county ball or the yeomanry review — made up the sum of 
the Brown locomotion in most years. A stray Brown from 
some distant county dropped in every now and then ; or from 
Oxford, on grave nag, an old don,° contemporary of the Squire; 10 
and were looked upon by the Brown household and the villagers 
with the same sort of feeling with which we now regard a man 
wT.o has crossed the Rocky Mountains, or launched a boat on 
the Great Lake in Central Africa. The White Horse Vale, re- 
member, was traversed by no great road : nothing but country 15 
parish roads, and these very bad. Only one coach ran there, 
and this one only from Wantage to London, so that the western 
part of the Vale was without regular means of moving on, and 
certainly didn’t seem to want them. There was the canal, by 
the way, which supplied the country-side with coal, and up and 20 
down which continually went the long barges, with the big black 
men lounging by the side of the horses along the towing-path, 
and the women in bright-coloured handkerchiefs standing in 
the sterns steering. Standing I say, but you could never see 
whether they were standing or sitting, all but their heads and 25 
shoulders being out of sight in the cosey little cabins which 
occupied some eight feet of the stern, and which Tom Brown 
pictured to himself as the most desirable of residences. His 
nurse told him that those good-natured-looking women were 
in the constant habit of enticing children into the barges and 30 
taking them up to London and selling them, which Tom 
wouldn’t believe, and which made him resolve as soon as pos- 
sible to accept the oft-proffered invitation of these sirens to 
“young master,” to come in and have a ride. But as yet the 
nurse was too much for Tom. 35 

Yet why should I after all abuse the gadabout propensities 
of my countrymen? We are a vagabond nation now, that’s 
certain, for better for worse. I am a vagabond; I have been 
away from home no less than five distinct times in the last 
year. The Queen sets us the example — we are moving on 40 
from top to bottom. Little dirty Jack, who abides in Clement’s 


14 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


Inn gatewa}’^, and blacks my boots for a penny, takes his month’ s 
hop-picking every year as a matter of course. Why shouldn’t 
he? I’m delighted at it. I love vagabonds, only I prefer poor 
to rich ones; — couriers and ladies’ maids, imperials and 
5 travelling carriages, are an abomination unto me — I cannot 
away with them. But for dirty Jack, and every good fellow 
who, in the words of the capital French song, moves about. 


“Comme le limagon,® 
Portant tout son bagage, 
Ses meubles, sa maison, ” 


lO 


on his own back, why, good luck to them, and many a merrj'- 
roadside adventure, and steaming supper in the chimney cor- 
ners of roadside inns, Swiss chMets, Hottentot kraals,® or 
wherever else they like to go. So having succeeded in con- 
1 5 tradicting myself in my first chapter (which gives me great 
hopes that you will all go on, and think me a good fellow not- 
withstanding my crotchets), I shall here shut up for the pres- 
ent, and consider my ways; having resolved to “sar’° it out,” 
as we say in the Vale, “holus-bolus” ° just as it comes, and then 
20 you’ll probably get the truth out of me. 


!t ...•IJl 

'f 1 b.jrv 
•h’ V.rtMif;/-', 



Y 


ti>*T 4l JjJ r 



CHAPTER II 


THE VEAST° 

‘'And the King commandeth and forbiddeth, that from henceforth 
neither fairs nor markets be kept in Churchyards, for the honour 
of the Church." — Statutes: 13 Edw. I. Stat. ii. cap. vi. 

As that venerable and learned poet° (whose voluminous 
works we all think it the correct thing to admire and talk about, 
but don’t read often), most truly says, "the child is father to 
the man” ; d fortiori ° therefore, he must be father to the boy. 
So, as we are going at any rate to see Tom Brown through his 5 
boyhood, supposing we never get any further (which, if you 
show a proper sense of the value of this history, there is no 
knowing but what we may), let us have a look at the life and 
environments of the child in the quiet country village to which 
we were introduced in the last chapter. 10 

Tom, as has been already said, was a robust and combative 
urchin, and at the age of four began to struggle against the 
yoke and authority of his nurse. That functionary was a good- 
hearted, tearful, scatter-brained girl, lately taken by Tom’s 
mother, Madam Brown, as she was called, from the village 15 
school to be trained as nurserymaid. Madam Brown was a 
rare trainer of servants, and spent herself freely in the pro- 
fession; for profession it was, and gave her more trouble by 
half than many people take to earn a good income. Her ser- 
vants were known and sought after for miles round. Almost 20 
all the girls who attained a certain place in the village school 
were taken by her, one or two at a time, as housemaids, laun- 
drymaids, nurserymaids, or kitchen-maids, and after a year or 
two’s drilling were started in life amongst the neighbouring 
families, with good principles and wardrobes. One of the 25 
results of this system was the perpetual despair of Mrs. Brown’s 
cook and own maid, who no sooner had a notable® girl made to 

15 


16 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


their hands than Missus was sure to find a good place for her 
and send her off, taking in fresh importations from the school. 
Another was, that the house was always full of young girls, 
with clean shining faces; who broke plates and scorched linen, 
5 but made an atmosphere of cheerful homely life about the 
place, good for every one who came within its influence. Mrs. 
Brown loved young people, and in fact human creatures in 
general, above plates and linen. They were more like a lot of 
elder children than servants, and felt to her more as a mother 
lo or aunt than as a mistress. 

Tom’s nurse was one who took in her instruction very slowly, 
— she seemed to have two left hands and no head ; and so Mrs. 
Brown kept her on longer than usual, that she might expend 
her awkwardness and forgetfulness upon those who would not 
IS judge and punish her too strictly for them. 

Charity Lamb was her name. It had been the immemorial 
habit of the village to christen children either by Bible names, 
or by those of the cardinal and other virtues ; so that one was 
forever hearing in the village street, or on the green, shrill 
20 sounds of “Prudence! Prudence! thee cum’ out o’ the 
gutter;” or, “Mercy ! d’rat the girl, what bist thee a doin’ wi’ 
little Faith?” and there were Ruths, Rachels, Keziahs, in 
every corner. The same with the boys; they were Benja- 
mins, Jacobs, Noahs, Enochs. I suppose the custom has 
25 come down from Puritan times — there it is at any rate, very 
strong still in the Vale. 

Well, from early morn till dewy eve,° when she had it out 
of him in the cold tub before putting him to bed. Charity and 
Tom were pitted against one another. Physical power was as 
30 yet on the side of Charity, but sVie hadn’t a chance with him 
wherever head-work was wanted. This war of independence 
began every morning before breakfast, when Charity escorted 
her charge to a neighbouring farm-house which supplied the 
Browns, and where, by his mother’s wish. Master Tom went 
35 to drink whey, before breakfast. Tom had no sort of objection 
to whey, but he had a decided liking for curds, which were 
forbidden as unwholesome, and there was seldom a morning 
that he did not manage to secure a handful of hard curds, in 
defiance of Charity and of the farmer’s wife. The latter good 
40 soul was a gaunt angular woman, who, with an old black bon- 
net on the top of her head, the strings dangling about her 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 17 


shoulders, and her gown tucked through her pocket-holes, 
went clattering about the dairy, cheese-room, and yard, in 
high pattens.® Charity was some sort of niece of the old lady’s, 
and was consequently free of the farm-house and garden, into 
which she could not resist going for the purposes of gossip and s 
flirtation with the heir-apparent, who was a dawdling fellow, 
never out at work as he ought to have been. The moment 
Charity had found her cousin, or any other occupation, Tom 
would slip away; and in a minute shrill cries would be heard 
from the dairy, “Charity, Charity, thee lazy huzzy, where lo 
bist?” and Tom would break cover, hands and mouth full of 
curds, and take refuge on the shaky surface of the great muck 
reservoir in the middle of the yard, disturbing the repose of 
the great pigs. Here he was in safety, as no grown person 
could follow without getting over their knees; and the luckless 15 
Charity, while her aunt scolded her from the dairy-door, for 
being “alius hankering about arter our Willum, instead of 
minding Master Tom,” would descend from threats to coaxing, 
to lure Tom out of the muck, which was rising over his shoes 
and would soon tell a tale on his stockings, for which she would 20 
be sure to catch it from Missus’s maid. 

Tom had two abettors in the shape of a couple of old boys, 
Noah and Benjamin by name, who defended him from Charity, 
and expended much time upon his education. They were both 
of them retired servants of former generations of the Browns. 25 
Noah Crooke was a keen dry old man of almost ninety, but 
still able to totter about. He talked to Tom quite as if he 
were one of his own family, and indeed had long completely 
identified the Browns with himself. In some remote age he 
had been the attendant of a Miss Brown, and had conveyed 30 
her about the country on a pillion.® He had a little round 
picture of the identical gray horse, caparisoned with the iden- 
tical pillion, before which he used to do a sort of fetish worship, 
and abuse turnpike roads and carriages. He wore an old 
full-bottomed wig, the gift of some dandy old Brown whom he 35 
had valeted in the middle of last century, which habiliment 
Master Tom looked upon with considerable respect, not to say 
fear; and indeed his whole feeling towards Noah was strongly 
tainted with awe; and when the old gentleman was gathered 
to his fathers, Tom’s lamentation over him was not unaccom- 4° 
panied by a certain joy at having seen the last of the wig: 
c 


18 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“Poor old Noah, dead and gone,” said he, “Tom Brown so 
sorry. Put him in the coffin, wig and all.” 

But old Benjy was young Master’s real delight and refuge. 
He was a youth by the side of Noah, scarce seventy years old. 

5 A cheery, humorous, kind-hearted old man, full of sixty years 
of Vale gossip, and of all sorts of helpful ways for young and 
old, but above all for children. It was he who bent the first 
pin with which Tom extracted his first stickleback out of 
“Pebbly Brook,” the little stream which ran through the 
lo village. The first stickleback was a splendid fellow, with 
fabulous red and blue gills. Tom kept him in a small basin till 
the day of his death, and became a fisherman from that day. 
Within a month from the taking of the first stickleback, Benjy 
had carried off our hero to the canal, in defiance of Charity, 
15 and between them, after a whole afternoon’s popjoying,® they 
had caught three or four small coarse fish and a perch, averag- 
ing perhaps two and a half ounces each, which Tom bore home 
in rapture to his mother as a precious gift, and she received 
like a true mother with equal rapture, instructing the cook 
20 nevertheless, in a private interview, not to prepare the same 
for the Squire’s dinner. Charity had appealed against old 
Benjy in the meantime, representing the dangers of the canal 
banks: but Mrs. Brown, seeing the boy’s inaptitude for female 
guidance, had decided in Benjy’ s favour, and from henceforth 
2 5 the old man was Tom’ s dry nurse. And as they sat by the canal 
watching their little green and white float, Benjy would instruct 
him in the doings of deceased Browns. How his grandfather, 
in the early days of the great war, when there was much dis- 
tress and crime in the Vale, and the magistrates had been 
30 threatened by the mob, had ridden in with a big stick in his 
hand, and held the Petty Sessions by himself. How his great 
uncle, the Rector, had encountered and laid the last ghost, who 
had frightened the old women, male and female, of the parish 
out of their senses, and who turned out to be the blacksmith’s 
35 apprentice disguised in drink and a white sheet. It was Benjy 
too who saddled Tom’s first pony and instructed him in the 
mysteries of horsemanship, teaching him to throw his weight 
back and keep his hand low ; and who stood chuckling outside 
the door of the girls’ school, when Tom rode his little Shetland 
40 into the cottage and round the table, where the old dame and 
her pupils were seated at their work. 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


19 


Benjy himself was come of a family distinguished in the Vale 
for their prowess in all athletic games. Some half dozen of his 
brothers and kinsmen had gone to the wars, of whom only one 
had survived to come home, with a small pension, and three 
bullets in different parts of his body; he had shared Benjy’ s 5 
cottage till his death, and had left him his old dragoon’s sword 
and pistol, which hung over the mantelpiece, flanked by a pair 
of heavy single-sticks with which Benjy himself had won 
renown long ago as an old gamester, against the picked men of 
Wiltshire and Somersetshire, in many a good bout at the revels 10 
and pastimes of the country-side. For he had been a famous 
back-sword man in his young days, and a good wrestler at 
elbow and collar. 

Back-swording and wrestling were the most serious holiday 
pursuits of the Vale — those by which men attained fame — 15 
and each village had its champion. I suppose that on the whole 
people were less worked then than they are now; at any rate, 
they seemed to have more time and energy for the old pastimes. 
The great times for back-swording came round once a year in 
each village, at the feast. The Vale “veasts” were not the 20 
common statute feasts, but much more ancient business. They 
are literally, so far as one can ascertain, feasts of the dedication, 
i.e. they were first established in the churchyard on the day on 
which the village church was opened for public worship, which 
was on the wake or festival of the patron Saint, and have been 25 
held on the same day in every year since that time. 

There was no longer any remembrance of why the “veast” 
had been instituted, but nevertheless it had a pleasant and 
almost sacred character of its own. For it was then that all 
the children of the village, wherever they were scattered, tried 30 
to get home for a holiday to visit their fathers and mothers and 
friends, bringing with them their wages or some little gift from 
up the country for the old folk. Perhaps for a day or two 
before, but at any rate on Veast-day and the day after, in 
our village, you might see strapping healthy young men and 35 
women from all parts of the country going round from house 
to house in their best clothes, and finishing up with a call on 
Madam Brown, whom they would consult as to putting out 
their earnings to the best advantage, or how to expend the same 
best for the benefit of the old folk. Every household, however 40 
poor, managed to raise a “feast-cake” and bottle of ginger or 


20 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL BAYS 


raisin wine, which stood on the cottage table ready for all 
comers, and not unlikely to make them remember feast time, — 
for 'feast-cake is very solid, and full of huge raisins. Moreover, 
feast-time was the day of reconciliation for the parish. If Job 
5 Higgins and Noah Freeman hadn’t spoken for the last six 
months, their “old women” would be sure to get it patched up 
that day. And though there was a good deal of drinking and 
low vice in the booths of an evening, it was pretty well con- 
fined to those who would have been doing the like, “veast or 
lono veast,” and on the whole, the effect was humanizing and 
Christian. In fact, the only reason why this is not the case 
still, is that gentlefolk and farmers have taken to other amuse- 
ments, and have, as usual, forgotten the poor. They don’t 
attend the feasts themselves, and call them disreputable, 
15 whereupon the steadiest of the poor leave them also, and they 
become what they are called. Class amusements, be they for 
dukes or ploughboys, always become nuisances and curses to 
a country. The true charm of cricket and hunting is, that 
they are still more or less sociable and universal; there’s a 
20 place for every man who will come and take his part. 

No one in the village enjoyed the approach of “veast-day” 
more than Tom, in the year in which he was taken under old 
Benjy’s tutelage. The feast was held in a large green field at 
the lower end of the village. The road to Farringdon ran along 
25 one side of it, and the brook by the side of the road ; and above 
the brook was another large gentle sloping pasture-land, with 
a footpath running down it from the churchyard ; and the old 
church, the originator of all the mirth, towered up with its 
gray walls and lancet windows, overlooking and sanctioning 
30 the whole, though its own share therein had been forgotten. 
At the point where the footpath crossed the brook and road, 
and entered on the field where the feast was held, was a long 
low roadside inn, and on the opposite side of the field was a 
large white thatched farm-house, where dwelt an old sporting 
35 farmer, a great promoter of the revels. 

Past the old church, and down the footpath, pottered the 
old man and the child hand in hand early on the afternoon of 
the day before the feast, and wandered all round the ground, 
which was already being occupied by the “cheap Jacks,” with 
40 their green covered carts and marvellous assortment of wares, 
and the booths of more legitimate small traders with their 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 21 

tempting arrays of fairings and eatables ! and penny peep- 
shows and other shows, containing pink-eyed ladies, and 
dwarfs, and boa-constrictors, and wild Indians. But the ob- 
ject of most interest to Benjy, and of course to his pupil also, 
wa,s the stage of rough planks some four feet high, which was 5 
being put up by the village carpenter for the back-swording and 
wrestling: and after surveying the whole tenderly, old Benjy 
led his charge away to the roadside inn, where he ordered a 
glass of ale and a long pipe for himself, and discussed these 
unwonted luxuries on the bench outside in the soft autumn 10 
evening with mine host, another old servant of the Browns, 
and speculated with him on the likelihood of a good show of old 
gamesters to contend for the morrow’s prizes, and told tales of 
the gallant bouts of forty years back, to which Tom listened 
with all his ears and eyes. 15 

But who shall tell the joy of the next morning, when the 
church bells were ringing a merry peal, and old Benjy appeared 
in the servants’ hall, resplendent in a long blue coat and brass 
buttons, and a pair of old yellow buckskins and top-boots 
which he had cleaned for and inherited from Tom’s grand- 20 
father, a stout thorn-stick in his hand, and a nosegay of pinks 
and lavender in his buttonhole, and led away Tom in his best 
clothes, and two new shillings in his breeches pockets? Those 
two, at any rate, look like enjoying the day’s revel. 

They quicken their pace when they get into the churchyard, 25 
for already they see the field thronged with country folk, the 
men in clean white smocks or velveteen or fustian coats, with 
rough plush waistcoats of many colours, and the women in the 
beautiful long scarlet cloak — the usual outdoor dress of west- 
country women in those days, and which often descended in 30 
families from mother to daughter — or in new-fashioned stuff 
shawls, which, if they would but believe it, don’t become them 
half so well. The air resounds with the pipe and tabor, and 
the drums and trumpets of the showmen shouting at the doors 
of their caravans, over which tremendous pictures of the won- 35 
ders to be seen within hang temptingly; while through all 
rises the shrill '' root-too-too-too ” of Mr. Punch, and the un- 
ceasing pan-pipe of his satellite. 

''Lawk a’ massey, Mr. Benjamin,” cries a stout motherly 
woman in a red cloak, as they enter the field, "be that you? 40 
Well, I never ! you do look purely. And how’s the Squire 
and Madam, and the family?” 


22 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


Benjy graciously shakes hands with the speaker, who has 
left our village for some years, but has come over for Veast- 
day on a visit to an old gossip — and gently indicates the heir- 
apparent of the Browns. 

5 ‘‘ Bless his little heart ! I must gi’un a kiss. Here, Susannah, 

Susannah !” cries she, raising herself from the embrace, “come 
and see Mr. Benjamin and young Master Tom. You minds 
our Sukey, Mr. Benjamin, she be growed a rare slip of a wench 
since you seen her, though her’ll be sixteen come Martinmas. ° 
lo I do aim to take her to see Madam to get her a place.” 

And Sukey comes bouncing away from a knot of old school- 
fellows, and drops a curtsey to Mr. Benjamin. And elders come 
up from all parts to salute Benjy, and girls who have been 
Madam’s pupils to kiss Master Tom. And they carry him off 
1 5 to load him with fairings; and he returns to Benjy, his hat 
and coat covered with ribands, and his pockets crammed with 
wonderful boxes which open upon ever new boxes, and popguns 
and trumpets, and apples, and gilt gingerbread from the stall 
of Angel Heavens, sole vendor thereof, whose booth groans 
20 with kings and queens, and elephants and prancing steeds, all 
gleaming with gold. There was more gold on Angel’s cakes 
than there is ginger in those of this degenerate age. Skilled 
diggers might yet make a fortune in the churchyards of the 
Vale, by carefully washing the dust of the consumers of Angel’s 
25 gingerbread. Alas ! he is with his namesakes, and his receipts 
have, I fear, died with him. 

And then they inspect the penny peep-show, at least Tom 
does, while old Benjy stands outside and gossips, and walks up 
the steps, and enters the mysterious doors of the pink-eyed 
30 lady and the Irish Giant, who do not by any means come up 
to their pictures ; and the boa will not swallow his rabbit, but 
there the rabbit is waiting to be swallowed — and what can 
you expect for tuppence?® We are easily pleased in the Vale, 
Now there is a rush of the crowd, and a tinkling bell is heard, 
35 and shouts of laughter ; and Master Tom mounts on Benjy’s 
shoulders and beholds a jingling match in all its glory. The 
games are begun, and this is the opening of them. It is a 
quaint game, immensely amusing to look at, and as I don’t 
know whether it is used in your counties, I had better describe 
40 it. A large roped ring is made, into which are introduced a 
dozen or so of big boys and young men who mean to play; 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


23 


these are carefully blinded and turned loose into the ring, and 
then a man is introduced not blindfolded, with a bell hung 
round his neck, and his two hands tied behind him. Of course 
every time he moves the bell must ring, as he has no hand to 
hold it, and so the dozen blindfolded men have to catch him. 5 
This they cannot always manage if he is a lively fellow, but half 
of them always rush into the arms of the other half, or drive 
their heads together, or tumble over; and then the crowd 
laughs vehemently, and invents nicknames for them on the 
spur of the moment, and they, if they be choleric, tear off the 10 
handkerchiefs which blind them, and not unfrequently pitch 
into one another, each thinking that the other must have run 
against him on purpose. It is great fun to look at a jingling 
match certainly, and Tom shouts and jumps on old Benjy’s 
shoulders at the sight, until the old man feels weary, and shifts 1 5 
him to the strong young shoulders of the groom, who has just 
got down to the fun. 

And now, while they are climbing the pole in another part 
of the field, and muzzling in a flour-tub in another, the old 
farmer whose house, as has been said, overlooks the field, and 20 
who is master of the revels, gets up the steps on to the stage, 
and announces to all whom it may concern that a half-sover- 
eign in money will be forthcoming for the old gamester who 
breaks most heads; to which the Squire and he have added a 
new hat. 25 

The amount of the prize is sufficient to stimulate the men of 
the immediate neighbourhood, but not enough to bring any very 
high talent from a distance; so, after a glance or two round, a 
tall fellow, who is a down shepherd, chucks his hat on to the 
stage and climbs up the steps, looking rather sheepish. The 30 
crowd of course first cheer, and then chaff as usual, as he picks 
up his hat and begins handling the sticks to see which will 
suit him. 

“ Wooy, Willum Smith, thee canst plaay wi’ he arra daay,’’ 
says his companion to the blacksmith’s apprentice, a stout 35 
young fellow of nineteen or twenty. Willum’s sweetheart is in 
the ‘‘veast” somewhere, and has strictly enjoined him not to 
get his head broke at back-swording, on pain of her highest 
displeasure; but as she is not to be seen (the women pretend not 
to like to see the back-sword play, and keep away from the 40 
stage), and as his hat is decidedly getting old, he chucks it on 


24 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


to the stage, and follows himself, hoping that he will only have 
to break other people’s heads, or that after all Rachel won’t 
really mind. 

Then follows the greasy cap lined with fur of a half-gypsy, 
5 poaching, loafing fellow, who travels the Vale not for much 
good, I fancy: — ■ 

“Full twenty times was Peter feared® 

For once that Peter was respected,” 
in fact. And then three or four other hats, including the 
lo glossy castor of Joe Willis, the self-elected and would-be 
champion of the neighbourhood, a w^ell-to-do young butcher 
of twenty-eight or thereabouts, and a great strapping fellow, 
with his full allowance of bluster. This is a capital show of 
gamesters, considering the amount of the prize; so while they 
15 are picking their sticks and drawing their lots, I think I must 
tell you, as shortly as I can, how the noble old game of back- 
sword is played; for it is sadly gone out of late, even in the 
Vale, and maybe you have never seen it. 

The weapon is a good stout ash stick with a large basket 
20 handle, heavier and somewhat shorter than a common single- 
stick. The players are called ‘‘old gamesters,” — why, I 
can’t tell you, — and their object is simply to break one 
another’s heads : for the moment that blood runs an inch any- 
where above the eyebrow, the old gamester to whom it belongs 
25 is beaten, and has to stop. A very slight blow with the sticks 
will fetch blood, so that it is by no means a punishing pastime, 
if the men don’t play on purpose, and savagely, at the body 
and arms of their adversaries. The old gamester going into 
action only takes off his hat and coat, and arms himself with a 
30 stick : he then loops the fingers of his left hand in a handker- 
chief or strap which he fastens round his left leg, measuring the 
length, so that when he draws it tight with his left elbow in the 
air, that elbow shall just reach as high as his crown. Thus you 
see, so long as he chooses to keep his left elbow up, regardless of 
35 cuts, he has a perfect guard for the left side of his head. Then 
he advances his right hand above and in front of his head, 
holding his stick across so that its point projects an inch or two 
over his left elbow, and thus his whole head is completely 
guarded, and he faces his man armed in like manner, and they 
40 stand some three feet apart, often nearer, and feint, and strike, 
and return at one another’s heads, until one cries “hold,” or 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


25 


blood flows; in the first case they are allowed a minute’s time, 
and go on again; in the latter, another pair of gamesters are 
called on. If good men are playing, the quickness of the 
returns is marvellous ; you hear the rattle like that a boy makes 
drawing his stick along palings, only heavier, and the closeness 5 
of the men in action to one another gives it a strange interest, 
and makes a spell at back-swording a very noble sight. 

They are all suited now with sticks, and Joe Willis and the 
gypsy man have drawn the first lot. So the rest lean against 
the rails of the stage, and Joe and the dark man meet in the 10 
middle, the boards having been strewed with sawdust; Joe’s 
white shirt and spotless drab breeches and boots contrasting 
with the gypsy’s coarse blue shirt and dirty green velveteen 
breeches and leather gaiters. Joe is evidently turning up his 
nose at the other, and half insulted at having to break his head. 15 

The gypsy is a tough, active fellow, but not very skilful with 
his weapon, so that Joe’s weight and strength tell in a minute ; 
he is too heavy metal for him : whack, whack, whack, come his 
blows, breaking down the gypsy’s guard, and threatening to 
reach his head every moment. There it is at last — “ Blood, 20 
blood !” shout the spectators, as a thin stream oozes out slowly 
from the roots of his hair, and the umpire calls to them to stop. 
The gypsy scowls at Joe under his brows in no pleasant manner, 
while Master Joe swaggers about, and makes attitudes, and 
thinks himself, and shows that he thinks himself, the greatest 25 
man in the field. 

Then follow several stout sets-to between the other candi- 
dates for the new hat, and at last come the shepherd and Wil- 
lum Smith. This is the crack set-to of the day. They are 
both in famous wind, and there is no crying “hold!” The 30 
shepherd is an old hand and up to all the dodges ; he tries them 
one after another, and very nearly gets at Willum’s head by 
coming in near, and playing over his guard at the half-stick, 
but somehow Willum blunders through, catching the stick on 
his shoulders, neck, sides, every now and then, anywhere but 35 
on his head, and his returns are heavy and straight, and he is 
the youngest gamester and a favourite in the parish, and his 
gallant stand brings down shouts and cheers, and the knowing 
ones think he’ll win if he keeps steady, and Tom on the groom’s 
shoulder holds his hands together, and can hardly breathe for 40 
excitement. 


26 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL BAYS 


Alas for Willum ! his sweetheart getting tired of female 
companionship has been hunting the booths to see where he 
can have got to, and now catches sight of him on the stage in 
full combat. She flushes and turns pale; her old aunt catches 
5 hold of her, saying, ''Bless’ee, child, doanVee go a’nigst it;’"’ 
but she breaks away and runs towards the stage calling his 
name. Willum keeps up his guard stoutly, but glances for a 
moment towards the voice. No guard will do it, Willum, with- 
out the eye. The shepherd steps round and strikes, and the 
lo point of his stick just grazes Willum’s forehead, fetching off 
the skin, and the blood flows, and the umpire cries “Hold,” 
and poor Willum’s chance is up for the day. But he takes it 
very well, and puts on his old hat and coat, and goes down to 
be scolded by his sweetheart, and led away out of mischief. 
15 Tom hears him say coaxingly, as he walks off — 

“Now doan’t’ee, Rachel! I wouldn’t ha’ done it, only 
I wanted summut to buy’ee a fairing wi’, and I be as vlush o’ 
money as a twod o’ veathers.” 

“Thee mind what I tells’ ee,” rejoins Rachel saucily, “and 
20 doan’t’ee kep blethering about fairings.” Tom resolves in 
his heart to give Willum the remainder of his two shillings after 
the back-swording. 

Joe Willis has all the luck to-day. His next bout ends in 
an easy victory, while the shepherd has a tough job to break 
25 his second head; and when Joe and the .shepherd meet, and 
the whole circle expect and hope to see him get a broken crown, 
the shepherd slips in the first round and falls against the rails, 
hurting himself so that the old farmer will not let him go on, 
much as he wishes to try; and that impostor Joe (for he is 
30 certainly not the best man) struts and swaggers about the 
stage the conquering gamester, though he hasn’t had five 
minutes’ really trying play. 

Joe takes the new hat in his hand, and puts the money into 
it, and then, as if a thought strikes him and he doesn’t think 
35 his victory quite acknowledged down below, walks to each 
face of the stage, and looks down, shaking the money, and 
chaffing, as how he’ll stake hat and money and another half 
sovereign “agin any game.ster as hasn’t played already.” 
Cunning Joe ! he thus gets rid of Willum and the shepherd, 
40 who is quite fresh again. 

No one seems to like the offer^ and the umpire is just coming 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


27 


down, when a queer old hat, something like a Doctor of Divin- 
ity’s shovel, is chucked on to the stage, and an elderly quiet 
man steps out, who has been watching the play, saying he 
should like to cross a stick wi’ the prodigalish young chap. 

The crowd cheer and begin to chaff Joe, who turns up his 5 
nose and swaggers across to the sticks. “Imp’ dent old wos- 
bird°!” says he, “I’ll break the bald head on un to the 
truth.” 

The old boy is very bald certainly, and the blood will show 
fast enough if you can touch him, Joe. lo 

He takes off his long-flapped coat, and stands up in a long- 
flapped waistcoat, which Sir Roger de Coverley® might have 
worn when it was new, picks out a stick, and is ready for Master 
Joe, who loses no time, but begins his old game, whack, whack, 
whack, trying to break down the old man’s guard by sheer 15 
strength. But it won’t do, — he catches every blow close by 
the basket, and though he is rather stiff in his returns, after a 
minute walks Joe about the stage, and is clearly a staunch old 
gamester. Joe now comes in, and making the most of his 
height, tries to get over the old man’s guard at half-stick, by 20 
which he takes a smart blow in the ribs and another on the 
elbow and nothing more. And now he lo.ses wind and begins 
to puff, and the crowd laugh: “Cry ‘hold,’ Joe — thee’st met 
thy match ! ” Instead of taking good advice and getting his 
wind, Joe loses his temper, and strikes at the old man’s body. 25 

“Blood, blood!” shout the crowd, “Joe’s head’s broke!” 

Who’d have thought it? How did it come? That body- 
blow left Joe’s head unguarded for a moment, and with one 
turn of the wrist the old gentleman has picked a neat little 
bit of skin off the middle of his forehead, and though he won’t 30 
believe it, and hammers on for three more blows despite of the 
shouts, is then convinced by the blood trickling into his eye. 
Poor Joe is sadly crestfallen, and fumbles in his pocket for the 
other half-sovereign, but the old gamester won’t have it. 

“ Keep thy money, man, and gi’s thy hand,” says he, and they 35 
shake hands; but the old gamester gives the new hat to the 
shepherd, and, soon after, the half-sovereign to Willum, who 
thereout* decorates his sweetheart with ribbons to his heart’s 
content. 

“Who can a be?” “Wur do a cum from?” a.sk the crowd. 4° 
And it soon flies about that the old west-country champion, 


28 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


who played a tie with Shaw the Life-guardsman at “Vizes” 
twenty years before, has broken Joe Willis’s crown for him. 

Kow my country fair is spinning out ! I see I must skip 
the wrestling, and the boys jumping in sacks, and rolling 
5 wheelbarrows blindfolded; and the donke3’--race, and the fight 
which arose thereout, marring the otherwise peaceful “veast” ; 
and the frightened scurrying away of the female feast-goers, 
and descent of Squire Brown, summoned by the wife of one of 
the combatants to stop it; which he wouldn’t start to-do till 
lo he had got on his top-boots. Tom is carried away by old Benjy, 
dog-tired and surfeited with pleasure, as the evening comes on 
and the dancing begins in the booths; and though Willum, 
and Rachel in her new ribbons, and many another good lad and 
lass don’t come away just yet, but have a good step out, and 
15 enjoy it, and get no harm thereby, yet we, being sober folk, 
will just stroll away up through the churchyard, and by the 
old yew-tree ; and get a quiet dish of tea and a parle with our 
gossips, as the steady ones of our village do, and so to bed. 

That’s the fair true sketch, as far as it goes, of one of the 
20 larger village feasts in the Vale of Berks, when I was a little 
boy. They are much altered for the worse, I am told. I 
haven’t been at one these twenty years, but I have been at 
the statute fairs in some west-country towns, where servants 
are hired, and greater abominations cannot be found. What 
25 village feasts have come to, I fear, in many cases, may be read 
in the pages of Yeast ° (though I never saw one so bad — 
thank God!). 

Do you want to know why? It is because, as I said before, 
gentlefolk and farmers have left off joining or taking an interest 
30 in them. They don’t either subscribe to the prizes, or go 
down and enjoy the fun. 

Is this a good or a bad sign? I hardly know. Bad, sure 
enough, if it only arises from the further separation of classes 
consequent on twenty years of buying cheap and selling dear 
35 and its accompanying overwork; or because our sons and 
daughters have their hearts in London Club-life, or so-called 
Society, instead of in the old English home duties; because 
farmers’ sons are aping fine gentlemen, and farmers’ daughters 
caring more to make bad foreign music than good English 
40 cheeses. Good, perhaps, if it be that the time for the old 
“veast” has gone by, that it is no longer the healthy, sound 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


29 


expression of English country holiday-making; that, in fact, 
we as a nation have got beyond it, and are in a transition state, 
feeling for and soon likely to find some better substitute. 

Only I have just got this to say before I quit the text. Don’t 
let reformers of any sort think that they are^ going really to 5 
lay hold of the working boys and young men of England by 
any educational grapnel whatever, which hasn’t some bon^ 
fide equivalent for the games of the old countrj’- “veast” in 
it; something to put in the place of the back-swording and 
wrestling and racing ; something to try the muscles of men’s lo 
bodies, and the endurance of their hearts, and to make them 
rejoice in their strength. In all the new-fangled comprehen- 
sive plans which I see, this is all left out: and the consequence 
is, that your great Mechanics’ Institutes end in intellectual 
priggism, and your Christian Young Men’s Societies in religious 15 
Pharisaism. 

Well, well, we must bide our time. Life isn’t all beer and 
skittles,® — but beer and skittles, or something better of the 
same sort, must form a good part of every Englishman’s edu- 
cation. If I could only drive this into the heads of you rising 20 
Parliamentary Lords, and young swells who ‘‘ have your ways 
made for you,” as the saying is, — you, who frequent palaver 
houses and West-end Clubs, waiting always ready to strap 
yourselves on to the back of poor dear old John,® as soon as 
the present used-up lot (your fathers and uncles), who sit there 25 
on the great Parliamentary-majorities’ pack-saddle, and make 
belief they’re guiding him with their red-tape bridle, tumble, 
or have to be lifted off ! 

I don’t think much of you yet — I wish I could; though 
you do go talking and lecturing up and down the country to 30 
crowded audiences, and are busy with all sorts of philanthropic 
intellectualism, and circulating libraries and museums, and 
Heaven only knows what besides, and try to make us think, 
through newspaper reports, that you are, even as we, of the 
working classes. But, bless your hearts, we “ain’t so green,” 35 
though lots of us of all sorts toady you enough certainly, and 
try to make you think so. 

I’ll tell you what to do now : instead of all this trumpeting 
and fuss, which is only the old Parliamentary-majority dodge 
over again — just you go, each of you (you’ve plenty of time 40 
for it, if you’ll only give up t’other line), and quietly make 


30 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


three or four friends, real friends, among us. You’ll find a 
little trouble in getting at the right sort, because such birds 
don’t come lightly to your lure — but found they may be. 
Take, say, two out of the professions, lawyer, parson, doctor — 
5 which you will; one out of trade, and three or four out of the 
working classes, tailors, engineers, carpenters, engravers, — 
there’s plenty of choice. Let them be men of your own ages, 
mind, and ask them to your homes; introduce them to your 
wives and sisters, and get introduced to theirs: give them good 
lo dinners, and talk to them about what is really at the bottom 
of your hearts, and box, and run, and row with them, when 
you have a chance. Do all this honestly as man to man, and 
by the time you come to ride old John, you’ll be able to do 
something more than sit on his back, and may feel his mouth 
15 with some stronger bridle than a red-tape one. 

Ah, if you only would ! But jmu have got too far out of 
the right rut, I fear. Too much overcivilization, and the 
deceitfulness of riches. It is easier for a camel to go through 
the eye of a needle. More’s the pity. I never came across 
20 but two of you who could value a man wholly and solely for 
what was in him; who thought themselves verily and indeed 
of the same flesh and blood as John Jones the attorney’s clerk, 
and Bill Smith the costermonger, and could act as if they 
thought so. 


CHAPTER III 


SUNDRY WARS AND ALLIANCES 

Poor old Benjy! The ‘‘rheumatiz’' has much to answer 
for all through English country-sides, but it never played a 
scurvier trick than in laying thee by the heels, when thou wast 
yet in a green old age. The enemy, which had Ipng been 
carrying on a sort of border warfare, and trying his strength 5 
against Benjy’ s on the battle-field of his hands and legs, now, 
mustering all his forces, began laying siege to the citadel, and 
overrunning the whole country. Benjy was seized in the back 
and loins; and though he made strong and brave fight, it was 
soon clear enough that all which could be beaten of poor old 10 
Benjy would have to give in before long. 

It was as much as he could do now, with the help of his big 
stick and frequent stops, to hobble down to the canal with 
Master Tom, and bait his hook for him, and sit and watch his 
angling, telling him quaint old country stories, and, when Tom 15 
had no sport, and detecting a rat some hundred yards or so 
off along the bank, would rush off with Toby the turnspit 
terrier, his other faithful companion, in bootless pursuit, he 
might have tumbled in and been drowned twenty times over 
before Benjy could have got near him. 20 

Cheery and unmindful of himself as Benjy was, this loss of 
locomotive power bothered him greatly. He had got a new 
object in his old age, and was just beginning to think himself 
useful again in the world. He feared much too lest Master 
Tom should fall back again into the hands of Charity and the 25 
women. So he tried everything he could think of to get set 
up. He even went an expedition to the dwelling of one of 
those queer mortals, who — say what we will, and reason how 
we will — do cure simple people of diseases of one kind or 
another without the aid of physic ; and so get to themselves 3® 

31 


32 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


the reputation of using charms, and inspire for themselves 
and their dwellings great respect, not to say fear, amongst 
a simple folk such as the dwellers in the Vale of White Horse. 
Where this power,® or whatever else it may be, descends upon 
S the shoulders of a man whose ways are not straight, he becomes 
a nuisance to the neighbourhood; a receiver of stolen goods, 
giver of love-potions, and deceiver of silly women; the avowed 
enemy of law and order, of justices of the peace, headboroughs, 
and gamekeepers. Such a man in fact as was recently caught 
lo tripping, and deservedly dealt with by the Leeds justices, for 
seducing a girl who had come to him to get back a faithless 
lover, and has been convicted of bigamy since then. Some- 
times, however, they are of quite a different stamp, men who 
pretend to nothing, and are with difficulty persuaded to exer- 
15 cise their occult arts in the simplest cases. 

Of this latter sort was old farmer Ives, as he was called, 
the “wise man” to whom Benjy resorted (taking Tom with him 
as usual), in the early spring of the year next after the feast 
described in the last chapter. Why he was called “farmer” 
20 I cannot say, unless it be that he was the owner of a cow, a 
pig or two, and some poultry, which he maintained on about 
an acre of land enclosed from the middle of a wild common, on 
which probably his father had squatted before lords of manors 
looked as keenly after their rights as they do now. Here he 
25 had lived no one knew how long, a solitary man. It was often 
rumoured that he was to be turned out and his cottage pulled 
down, but somehow it never came to pass; and his pigs and 
cow went grazing on the common, and his geese hissed at the 
passing children and at the heels of the horse of my lord’s 
30 steward, who often rode by with a covetous eye on the enclos- 
ure still unmolested. His dwelling was some miles from our 
village; so Benjy, who was half ashamed of his errand, and 
wholly unable to walk there, had to exercise much ingenuity 
to get the means of transporting himself and Tom thither 
35 without exciting suspicion. However, one fine May morning 
he managed to borrow the old blind pony of our friend the 
publican, and Tom persuaded Madam Brown to give him a 
holiday to spend with old Benjy, and to lend them the squire’s 
light cart, stored with bread and cold meat and a bottle of ale. 
40 And so the two in high glee started behind old Dobbin, and 
jogged along the deep-rutted plashy roads, which had not been 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 83 

mended after their winter’s wear, towards the dwelling of 
the wizard. About noon they passed the gate which opened 
on to the large common, and old Dobbin toiled slowly up the 
hill, while Benjy pointed out a little deep dingle on the left, 
out of which welled a tiny stream. As they crept up the hill 5 
the tops of a few birch-trees came in sight, and blue smoke 
curling up through their delicate light boughs; and then the 
little white thatched home and patch of enclosed ground of 
farmer Ives, lying cradled in the dingle, with the gay gorse ° 
common rising behind and on both sides; while in front, 10 
after traversing a gentle slope, the eye might travel for miles 
and miles over the rich vale. They now left the main road and 
struck into a green track over the common marked lightly 
with wheel and horseshoe, which led down into the dingle 
and stopped at the rough gate of farmer Ives. Here they 15 
found the farmer, an iron-gray old man, with a bushy eyebrow 
and strong aquiline nose, busied in one of his vocations. He 
was a horse and cow doctor, and was tending a sick beast 
which had been sent up to be cured. Benjy hailed him as an 
old friend, and he returned the greeting cordially enough, 20 
looking however hard for a moment both at Benjy and Tom, 
to see whether there was more in their visit than appeared 
at first sight. It was a work of some difficulty and danger for 
Benjy to reach the ground, which however he managed to do 
without mishap; then he devoted himself to unharnessing 25 
Dobbin and turning him out for a graze (“a run” one could 
not say of that virtuous steed) on the common. This done, 
he extricated the cold provisions from the cart, and they en- 
tered the farmer’s wicket; and he, shutting up the knife with 
'which he was taking maggots out of the cow’s back and sides, 30 
accompanied them towards the cottage. A big old lurcher 
got up slowly from the door-stone, stretching first one hind 
leg and then the other, and taking Tom’s caresses and the 
presence of Toby, who kept however at a respectful distance, 
with equal indifference, 35 

“LTs be cum to pay’e a visit. I’ve a been long minded to 
do’t for old sake’s sake, only I vinds I dwont get about now 
as Td used to’t. I be so plaguy bad wi’ th’ rheumatiz in my 
back.” Benjy paused, in hopes of drawing the farmer at once 
on the subject of his ailments without further direct applica- 40 
tion. 


D 


34 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“ Ah, I see as you bean’t quite so lissom as you was,” replied 
the farmer with a grim smile, as he lifted the latch of his door; 
“we bean’t so young as we was, nother on us, wuss luck.” 

The farmer’s cottage was very like those of the better class 
5 of peasantry in general. A snug chimney-corner with two 
seats, and a small carpet on the hearth, an old flint gun and 
a pair of spurs over the fireplace, a dresser with shelves on 
which some bright pewter plates and crockery ware were 
arranged, an old walnut table, a few chairs and settles, some 
lo framed samplers, and an old print or two, and a bookcase 
with some dozen volumes on the walls, a rack with flitches of 
bacon, and other stores fastened to the ceiling, and you have 
the best part of the furniture. No sign of occult art is to be 
seen, unless the bundles of dried herbs hanging to the rack and 
15 in the ingle and the row of labelled phials on one of the shelves 
betoken it. 

Tom played about with some kittens who occupied the 
hearth, and with a goat who walked demurely in at the open 
door, while their host and Benjy spread the table for dinner — • 
20 and was soon engaged in conflict with the cold meat, to which 
he did much honour. The two old men’s talk was of old com- 
rades and their deeds, mute inglorious Miltons® of the Vale, 
and of the doings thirty years back — which didn’t interest 
him much, except when they spoke of the making of the canal, 
25 and then indeed he began to listen with all his ears ; and learned 
to his no small wonder that his dear and wonderful canal had 
not been there always — was not in fact so old as Benjy or 
farmer Ives, which caused a strange commotion in his small 
brain. 

30 After dinner Benjy called attention to a wart which Tom’ 
had on the knuckles of his hand, and which the family doctor 
had been trying his skill on without success, and begged the 
farmer to charm it away. Farmer Ives looked at it, muttered 
something or another over it, and cut some notches in a short 
35 stick, which he handed to Benjy, giving him instructions for 
cutting it down on certain days, and cautioning Tom not to 
meddle with the wart for a fortnight. And then they strolled 
out and sat on a bench in the sun with their pipes, and the 
pigs came up and grunted sociably and let Tom scratch them ; 
40 and the farmer, seeing how he liked animals, stood up and held 
his arms in the air and gave a call, which brought a flock of 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


35 


pigeons wheeling and dashing through the birch-trees. They 
settled down in clusters on the farmer’s arms and shoulders, 
making love to him and scrambling over one another’s backs 
to get to his face; and then he threw them all off, and they 
fluttered about close by, and lighted on him again and again s 
when he held up his arms. All the creatures about the place 
were clean and fearless, quite unlike their relations elsewhere; 
and Tom begged to be taught how to make all the pigs and 
cows and poultry in our village tame, at which the farmer 
only gave one of his grim chuckles. lo 

It wasn’t till they were just ready to go, and old Dobbin was 
harnessed, that Benjy broached the subject of his rheumatism 
again, detailing his symptoms one by one. Poor old boy ! He 
hoped the farmer could charm it away as easily as he could 
Tom’s wart, and was ready with equal faith to put another 15 
notched stick into his other pocket, for the cure of his own 
ailments. The physician shook his head, but nevertheless 
produced a bottle and handed it to Benjy with instructions 
for use. “ Not as it’ll do’e much good ■ — leastways I be afeared 
not,” shading his eyes with his hand and looking up at them 20 
in the cart: 'Hhere’s only one thing as I knows on as ’ll cure 
old folks like you and I o’ th’ rheumatiz.” 

‘‘ Wot be that then, farmer? ” inquired Benjy. 

“Churchyard mould,” said the old iron-gray man with 
another chuckle. And so they said their good-bys and went 25 
their ways home. Tom’s wart was gone in a fortnight, but 
not so Benjy’s rheumatism, which laid him by the heels more 
and more. And though Tom still spent many an hour with 
him, as he sat on a bench in the sunshine, or by the chimney 
corner when it was cold, he soon had to seek elsewhere for his 30 
regular companions. 

Tom had been accustomed often to accompany his mother 
in her visits to the cottages, and had thereby made acquaintance 
with many of the village boys of his own age. There was Job 
Rudkin, son of widow Rudkin, the most bustling woman in 35 
the parish. How she could ever have had such a stolid boy as 
Job for a child must always remain a mystery. The first time 
Tom*'went to their cottage with his mother, Job was not indoors, 
but he entered soon after, and stood with both hands in his 
pockets staring at Tom. Widow Rudkin, who would have 40 
had to cross Madam to get at young Hopeful — a breach of 


36 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


good manners of which she was wholly incapable — began a 
series of pantomime signs, which only puzzled him, and at 
last, unable to contain herself longer, burst out with, “Job! 
Job I where’s thy cap?’’ 

5 “What! beant’ee on ma’ head, mother?” replied Job, 
slowly extricating one hand from a pocket and feeling for the 
article in question; which he found on his head sure enough, 
and left there, to his mother’s horror and Tom’s great delight. 

Then there was poor Jacob Dodson the half-witted boy, 
lo who ambled about cheerfully, undertaking messages and little 
helpful odds and ends for every one, which, however, poor 
Jacob managed always hopelessly to embrangle. Everything 
came to pieces in his hands, and nothing would stop in his head. 
They nicknamed him Jacob Doodle-calf. 

15 But above all there was Harry Winburn, the quickest and 
best boy in the parish. He might be a year older than Tom, 
but was very little bigger, and he was the Crichton ° of our 
village boys. He could wrestle and climb and run better than 
all the rest, and learned all that the schoolmaster could teach 
20 him faster than that worthy at all liked. He was a boy to 
be proud of, with his curly brown hair, keen gray eye, straight 
active figure, and little ears and hands and feet, “as fine as a 
lord’s,” as Charity remarked to Tom one day, talking as usual 
great nonsense. Lords’ hands and ears and feet are just as 
25 ugly as other folks’ when they are children, as any one may 
convince himself if he likes to look. Tight boots and gloves, 
and doing nothing with them, I allow make a difference by the 
time they are twenty. 

Now that Benjy was laid on the shelf, and his young brothers 
30 were still under petticoat government, Tom, in search of com- 
panions, began to cultivate the village boys generally more and 
more. Squire Brown, be it said, was a true blue Tory® to the 
backbone, and believed honestly that the powers which be were 
ordained of God, and that loyalty and steadfast obedience 
35 were men’s first duties. Whether it were in consequence or 
in spite of his political creed I do not mean to give an opinion, 
though I have one; but certain it is, that he held therewith 
divers social principles not generally supposed to be true blue 
in colour. Foremost of these, and the one which the Squire 
40 loved to propound above all others, was the belief that a man 
is to be valued wholly and solely for that which he is in him- 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


37 


self, for that which stands up in the four fleshly walls of him, 
apart from clothes, rank, fortune, and all externals whatsoever. 
Which belief I take to be a wholesome corrective of all political 
opinions, and, if held sincerely, to make all opinions equally 
harmless, whether they be blue, red, or green. As a necessary 5 
corollary to this belief. Squire Brown held further that it didn’t 
matter a straw whether his son associated with lords’ sons or 
ploughmen’s sons, provided they were brave and honest. 
He himself had played football and gone birds’-nesting with 
the farmers whom he met at vestry and the labourers who lo 
tilled their fields, and so had his father and grandfather with 
their progenitors. So he encouraged Tom in his intimacy 
with the boys of the village, and forwarded it by all means in 
his power, and gave them the run of a close for a playground, 
and provided bats and balls and a football for their sports. 15 
Our village was blessed amongst other things with a well- 
endowed school. The building stood by itself, apart from the 
master’s house, on an angle of ground where three roads met; 
an old gray stone building with a steep roof and mullioned ° 
windows. On one of the opposite angles stood Scjuire Brown’s 20 
stables and kennel, with their backs to the road, over which 
towered a great elm-tree; on the third stood the village car- 
penter and wheelwright’s large open shop, and his house and 
the schoolmaster’s, with long low eaves, under which the swal- 
lows built by scores. 25 

The moment Tom’s lessons were over, he would now get 
him down to this corner by the stables, and watch till the boys 
came out of school. He prevailed on the groom to cut notches 
for him in the bark of the elm, so that he could climb into the 
lower branches, and there he would sit watching the school 30 
door, and speculating on the possibility of turning the elm 
into a dwelling-place for himself and friends after the manner 
of the Swiss Family Robinson. ° But the school hours were 
long and Tom’s patience short, so that soon he began to descend 
into the street, and go and peep in at the school door and the 35 
wheelwright’s shop, and look out for something to while away 
the time. Now the wheelwright was a choleric man, and, one 
fine afternoon, returning from a short absence, found Tom 
occupied with one of his pet adzes, the edge of which was fast 
vanishing under our hero’s care. A speedy flight saved Tom 40 
from all but one sound cuff on the ears, but he resented this 


38 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


unjustifiable interruption of his first essays at carpentering, 
and still more the further proceedings of the wheelwright, 
who cut a switch and hung it over the door of his workshop, 
threatening to use it upon Tom if he came within twenty yards 
5 of his gate. So Tom, to retaliate, commenced a war upon the 
swallows who dwelt under the wheelwright’s eaves, whom he 
harassed with sticks and stones; and being fleeter of foot than 
his enemy, escaped all punishment, and kept him in perpetual 
anger. Moreover his presence about the school door began 
loto incense the master, as the boys in that neighbourhood neg- 
lected their lessons in consequence: and more than once he 
issued into the porch, rod in hand, just as Tom beat a hasty 
retreat. And he and the wheelwright, laying their heads to- 
gether, resolved to acquaint the Squire with Tom’s afternoon 
1 5 occupations ; but in order to do it with effect, determined to 
take him captive and lead him away to judgment fresh from 
his evil doings. This they would have found some difficulty 
in doing, had Tom continued the war single-handed, or rather 
single-footed, for he would have taken to the deepest part of 
20 Pebbly Brook to escape them; but, like other active powers, 
he was ruined by his alliances. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf could 
not go to school with the other boys, and one fine afternoon, 
about three o’clock (the school broke up at four), Tom found 
him ambling about the street, and pres.sed him into a visit 
25 to the school porch. Jacob, always ready to do what he was 
asked, consented, and the two stole down to the school together. 
Tom first reconnoitred the wheelwright’s shop, and seeing no 
signs of activity, thought all safe in that quarter, and ordered 
at once an advance of all his troops upon the school porch. 
30 The door of the school was ajar, and the boys seated on the 
nearest bench at once recognized and opened a correspondence 
with the invaders. Tom waxing bold, kept putting his head 
into the school and making faces at the master when his back 
was turned. Poor Jacob, not in the least comprehending the 
35 situation, and in high glee at finding himself so near the school, 
which he had never been allowed to enter, suddenly, in a fit of 
enthusiasm, pushed by Tom, and ambling three steps into 
the school, stood there, looking round him and nodding with 
a self-approving smile. The master, who was stooping over 
40 a boy’s slate, with his back to the door, became aware of some- 
thing unusual, and turned quickly round. Tom rushed at 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


39 


Jacob, and began dragging him back by his smock-frock, and 
the master made at them, scattering forms and boys in his 
career. Even now they might have escaped, but that in the 
porch, barring retreat, appeared the crafty wheelwright, who 
had been watching all their proceedings. So they were seized, 5 
the school dismissed, and Tom and Jacob led away to Squire 
Brown as lawful prize, the boys following to the gate in groups, 
and speculating on the result. 

The Squire was very angry at first, but the interview, by 
Tom’s pleading, ended in a compromise. Tom was not to 10 
go near the school till three o’clock, and only then if he had 
done his own lessons well, in which case he was to be the bearer 
of a note to the master from Squire Brown, and the master 
agreed in such case to release ten or twelve of the best boys 
an hour before the time of breaking up, to go off and play in 15 
the close. The wheelwright’s adzes and swallows were to be 
forever respected; and that hero and the master withdrew 
to the servants’ hall to drink the Squire’s health, well satisfied 
with their day’s work. 

The second act of Tom’s life may now be said to have begun. 20 
The war of independence had been over for some time: none 
of the women now, not even his mother’s maid, dared offer 
to help him in dressing or washing. Between ourselves, he 
had often at first to run to Benjy in an unfinished state of 
toilet; Charity and the rest of them seemed to take a delight 25 
in putting impossible buttons and ties in the middle of his 
back; but he would have gone without nether integuments 
altogether, sooner than have had recourse to female valeting. 
He had a room to himself, and his father gave him sixpence 
a week pocket-money. All this he had achieved by Benjy’s 30 
advice and assistance. But now he had conquered another 
step in life, the step which all real boys so long to make; he 
had got amongst his equals in age and strength, and could 
measure himself with other boys; he lived with those whose 
pursuits and wishes and ways were the same in kind as his 35 
own. 

The little governess who had lately been installed in the 
house found her work grow wondrously easy, for Tom slaved 
at his lessons in order to make sure of his note to the school- 
master. So there were very few days in the week in which 40 
Tom and the village boys were not playing in their close by 


40 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


three o’clock. Prisoner’s base, rounders, high-cock-a-lorum, 
cricket, football, he was soon initiated into the delights of 
them all ; and though most of the boys were older than himself, 
he managed to hold his own very well. He was naturally 
5 active and strong, and quick of eye and hand, and had the 
advantage of light shoes and well-fitting dress, so that in a 
short time he could run and jump and climb with any of them. 

They generally finished their regular games half an hour or 
so before tea-time, and then began trials of skill and strength 
lo in many ways. Some of them would catch the Shetland pony 
who was turned out in the field, and get two or three together 
on his back, and the little rogue, enjoying the fun, would gallop 
off for fifty yards and then turn round, or stop short and shoot 
them on to the turf, and then graze quietly on till he felt another 
15 load ; others played peg-top or marbles, while a few of the bigger 
ones stood up for a bout at wrestling. Tom at first only looked 
on at this pastime, but it had peculiar attractions for him, 
and he could not long keep out of it. Elbow and collar wres- 
tling as practised in the western counties was, next to back- 
20 sword ing, the way to fame for the youth of the Vale; and all 
the boys knew the rules of it, and were more or less expert. 
But Job Rudkin and Harry Winburn were the stars, the former 
stiff and sturdy, with legs like small towers, the latter pliant 
as india-rubber and quick as lightning. Day after day they 
25 stood foot to foot, and offered first one hand and then the other, 
and grappled and closed and swayed and strained, till a well- 
aimed crook of the heel or thrust of the loin took effect, and a 
fair backfall ended the matter. And Tom watched with all 
his eyes, and first challenged one of the less scientific, and threw 
30 him ; and so one by one wrestled his way up to the leaders. 

Then indeed for months he had a poor time of it ; it was not 
long indeed before he could manage to keep his legs against Job, 
for that hero was slow of offence, and gained his ^dctories 
chiefly by allowing others to throw themselves against his 
35 immovable legs and loins. But Harry Winburn was un- 
deniably his master; from the first clutch of hands when they 
stood up, down to the last trip which sent him on to his back 
on the turf, he felt that Harry knew more and could do more 
than he. Luckily Harry’s bright unconsciousness, and Tom’s 
40 natural good temper, kept them from ever quarrelling; and 
so Tom worked on and on, and trod more and more nearly on 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


41 


Harry’s heels, and at last mastered all the dodges and falls 
except one. This one was Harry’s own particular invention 
and pet; he scarcely ever used it except when hard pressed, 
but then out it came, and as sure as it did, over went poor Tom. 
He thought about that fall at his meals, in his walks, when he 5 
lay awake in bed, in his dreams — but all to no purpose; until 
Harry one day in his open way suggested to him how he thought 
it should be met, and in a week from that time the boys were 
equal, save only the slight difference of strength in Harry’s 
favour, which some extra ten months of age gave. Tom had 10 
often afterwards reason to be thankful for that early drilling, 
and above all for having mastered Harry Winburn’s fall. 

Besides their home games, on Saturdays the boys would 
wander all over the neighbourhood ; sometimes to the downs, 
or up to the camp, where they cut their initials out in the 15 
springy turf, and watched the hawks soaring, and the ‘‘peert” 
bird, as Harry Winburn called the gray plover, gorgeous in his 
wedding feathers; and so home, racing down the Manger 
with many a roll among the thistles, or through Uffington wood 
to watch the fox cubs playing in the green rides; sometimes 20 
to Rosy Brook, to cut long whispering reeds which grew there, 
to make pan-pipes of; sometimes to Moor Mills, where was 
a piece of old forest land, with short browsed turf and tufted 
brambly thickets stretching under the oaks, amongst which 
rumour declared that a raven, last of his race, still lingered ; or 25 
to the sand-hills, in vain quest of rabbits; and birds ’-nesting, 
in the season, anywhere and ever3rwhere. 

The few neighbours of the Squire’s own rank every now 
and then would shrug their shoulders as they drove or rode by 
a party of boys with Tom in the middle, carrying along bul- 30 
rushes or whispering reeds, or great bundles of cowslip and 
meadow-sweet, or young starlings or magpies, or other spoil 
of wood, brook, or meadow: and Lawyer Red-tape might 
mutter to Squire Straightback at the Board that no good 
would come of the young Browns, if they were let run wild 35 
with all the dirty village boj'-s, whom the best farmers’ sons 
even would not play with. And the Squire might reply with 
a shake of his head that his sons only mixed with their equals, 
and never went into the village without the governess or a foot- 
man. But, luckily. Squire Brown was full as stiff-backed as 40 
his neighbours, and so went on his own way; and Tom and 


42 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


his younger brothers, as they grew up, went on playing with 
the village boys, without the idea of equality or inequality 
(except in wrestling, running, and climbing) ever entering 
their heads, as it doesn’t till it’s put there by Jack Nastys or 
5 fine ladies’ maids. 

I don’t mean to say it would be the case in all villages, but 
it certainly was so in this one; the village boys were full as 
manly and honest, and certainly purer, than those in a higher 
rank; and Tom got more harm from his equals in his first 
lo fortnight at a private school, where he went when he was nine 
years old, than he had from his village friends from the day 
he left Charity’s apron-strings. 

Great was the grief amongst the village schoolboys when 
Tom drove off with the Squire, one August morning, to meet 
15 the coach on his way to school. Each of them had given him 
some little present of the best that he had, and his small private 
box was full of peg-tops, white marbles (called ‘‘alley-taws” 
in the Vale), screws, birds’ eggs, whip-cord, jews-harps, and 
other miscellaneous boys’ wealth. Poor Jacob Doodle-calf, 
20 in floods of tears, had pressed upon him with sputtering earnest- 
ness his lame pet hedgehog (he had always some poor broken- 
down beast or bird by him); but this Tom had been obliged 
to refuse by the Squire’s order. He had given them all a 
great tea under the big elm in their playground, for which 
25 Madam Brown had supplied the biggest cake ever seen in our 
village; and Tom was really as sorry to leave them as they 
to lose him, but his sorrow was not unmixed with the pride 
and excitement of making a new step in life. 

And this feeling carried him through his first parting with 
30 his mother better than could have been expected. Their love 
was as fair and whole as human love can be, perfect self-sac- 
rifice on the one side meeting a young and true heart on the 
other. It is not within the scope of my book, however, to 
speak of family relations, or I should have much to say on the 
35 subject of English mothers, — aye, and of English fathers, 
and sisters, and brothers too. 

Neither have I room to speak of our private schools: what 
I have to say is about public schools,*^ those much abused and 
much belauded institutions peculiar to England. So we must 
40 hurry through Master Tom’s year at a private school as fast 
as we can. 


43 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


It was a fair average specimen, kept by a gentleman, with 
another gentleman as second master; but it was little enough 
t)f the real work they did — merely coming into school when 
lessons were prepared and all ready to be heard. The whole 
discipline of the school out of lesson hours was in the hands of 5 
the two ushers, one of whom was always with the boys in their 
playground, in the school, at meals — in fact, at all times and 
everywhere, till they were fairly in bed at night. 

Now the theory of private schools is (or was) constant super- 
vision out of school ; therein differing fundamentally from that 10 
of public schools. 

It may be right or wrong; but if right, this supervision 
surely ought to be the especial work of the head-master, the 
responsible person. The object of all schools is not to ram 
Latin and Greek into boys, but to make them good English 15 
boys, good future citizens; and by far the most important 
part of that work must be done, or not done, out of school 
hours. To leave it, therefore, in the hands of inferior men, 
is just giving up the highest and hardest part of the work of 
education. Were I a private schoolmaster, I should say, let 20 
who will hear the boys their lessons, but let me live with them 
when they are at play and rest. 

The two ushers at Tom’s first school were not gentlemen, 
and very poorly educated, and were only driving their poor 
trade of usher to get such living as they could out of it. They 25 
were not bad men, but had little heart for their work, and of 
course were bent on making it as easy as possible. One of 
the methods by which they endeavoured to accomplish this 
was by encouraging tale-bearing, which had become a fright- 
fully common vice in the school in consequence, and had sapped 30 
all the foundations of school morality. Another was, by fa- 
vouring grossly the biggest boys, who alone could have given 
them much trouble ; whereby those young gentlemen became 
most abominable tyrants, oppressing the little boys in all 
the small mean ways which prevail in private schools. 35 

Poor little Tom was made dreadfully unhappy in his first 
week, by a catastrophe which happened to his first letter home. 
With huge labour he had, on the very evening of his arrival, 
managed to fill two sides of a sheet of letter-paper with as- 
surances of his love for dear mamma, his happiness at school, 4 ° 
and his resolves to do all she would wish. This missive, with 


44 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


the help of the boy who sat at the desk next him, also a new 
arrival, he managed to fold successfully; but this done, they 
were sadly put to it for means of sealing. Envelopes were then 
unknown, they had no wax, and dared not disturb the stillness 
5 of the evening schoolroom by getting up and going to ask the 
usher for some. At length Tom’s friend, being of an ingenious 
turn of mind, suggested sealing with ink, and the letter was 
accordingly stuck down with a blob of ink, and duly handed 
by Tom, on his way to bed, to the housekeeper to be posted, 
lo It was not till four days afterwards that that good dame sent 
for him, and produced the precious letter and some wax, saying, 
‘‘Oh, Master Brown, I forgot to tell you before, but your letter 
isn’t sealed.” Poor Tom took the wax in silence and sealed 
his letter, with a huge lump rising in his throat during the pro- 
15 cess, and then ran away to a quiet corner of the playground, 
and burst into an agony of tears. The idea of his mother 
waiting day after day for the letter he had promised her at 
once, and perhaps thinking him forgetful of her, when he had 
done all in his power to make good his promise, was as bitter 
20 a grief as any which he had to undergo for many a long year. 
His wrath then was proportionately violent when he was 
aware of two boys, who stopped close b}'' him, and one of whom, 
a fat gaby° of a fellow, pointed at him and called him “Young 
mammy-sick!” Whereupon Tom arose, and giving vent 
25 thus to his grief and shame and rage, smote his derider on the 
nose, and made it bleed — which sent that young worthy 
howling to the usher, who reported Tom for violent and un- 
provoked assault and battery. Hitting in the face was a 
felony punishable with flogging, other hitting only a mis- 
30 demeanour — a distinction not altogether clear in principle. 
Tom however escaped the penalty by pleading “primum 
tempus”°; and having written a second letter to his mother, 
enclosing some forget-me-nots, which he picked on their first 
half-holiday walk, felt quite happy again, and began to enjoy 
35 vastly a good deal of his new life. 

These half-holiday walks were the great events of the week. 
The whole fifty boys started after dinner with one of the ushers 
for Hazeldown, which was distant some mile or so from the 
school. Hazeldown measured some three miles round, and 
40 in the neighbourhood were several woods full of all manner 
of birds and butterflies. The usher walked slowly round the 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


45 


down with such boys as liked to accompany him; the rest 
scattered in all directions, being only bound to appear again 
when the usher had completed his round, and accompany him 
home. They were forbidden, however, to go anywhere except 
on the^ down and into the woods, the \dllage being especially 5 
prohibited, where huge bull’s-eyes and unctuous toffy might 
be procured in exchange for coin of the realm. 

Various were the amusements to which the boys then betook 
themselves. At the entrance of the down was a steep hillock, 
like the barrows of Tom’s own downs. This mound was the 10 
weekly scene of terrific combats, at a game called by the queer 
name of “mud-patties.” The boys who played divided into 
sides under different leaders, and one side occupied the mound. 
Then, all parties having provided themselves with many sods 
of turf, cut with their bread -and-cheese knives, the side which 15 
remained at the bottom proceeded to assault the mound, 
advancing up on all sides under cover of a heavy fire of turfs, 
and then struggling for victory with the occupants, which was 
theirs as soon as they could, even for a moment, clear the 
summit, when they in turn became the besieged. It was a 20 
good rough dirty game, and of great use in counteracting the 
sneaking tendencies of the school. Then others of the boys 
spread over the downs, looking for the holes of bumblebees 
and mice, which they dug up without mercy, often (I regret 
to say) killing and sldnning the unlucky mice, and (I do not 25 
regret to say) getting well stung by the bumblebees. Others 
went after butterflies and birds’ eggs in their seasons: and 
Tom found on hlazeldown, for the first time, the beautiful 
little, blue butterfly with golden spots on his wings, which he 
had never seen on his own downs, and dug out his first sand- 30 
martin’s nest. This latter achievement resulted in a flogging, 
for the sand-martins built in a high bank close to the village, 
consequently out of bounds; but one of the bolder spirits 
of the school, who never could be happy unless he was doing 
something to which risk attached, easily persuaded Tom to 35 
break bounds and visit the martins’ bank. From whence it 
being only a step to the toffy shop, what could be more simple 
than to go on there and All their pockets ; or what more certain 
than that on their return, a distribution of treasure having 
been made, the usher should shortly detect the forbidden smell 40 
of bull’s-eyes, and, a search ensuing, discover the state of the 
breeches pockets of Tom and his ally? 


46 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


This ally of Tom^s was indeed a desperate hero in the sight 
of the boys, and feared as one who dealt in magic, or something 
approaching thereto. Which reputation came to him in this 
wise. The boys went to bed at eight, and of course conse- 
5 quently lay awake in the dark for an hour or two, telling ghost- 
stories by turns. One night when it came to his turn, and he 
had dried up their souls by his story, he suddenly declared that 
he would make a fiery hand appear on the door; and to the 
astonishment and terror of the boys in his room, a hand, or 
lo something like it, in pale light, did then and there appear. 
The fame of this exploit having spread to the other rooms, 
and being discredited there, the young necromancer declared 
that the same wonder would appear in all the rooms in turn, 
which it accordingly did ; and the whole circumstances having 
15 been privately reported to one of the ushers as usual, that 
functionary, after listening about at the doors of the rooms, 
by a sudden descent caught the performer in his night-shirt, 
with a box of phosphorus in his guilty hand. Lucifer matches 
and all the present facilities for getting acquainted with fire 
20 were then unknown ; the very name of phosphorus had some- 
thing diabolic in it to the boy-mind ; so Tom’s ally, at the cost 
of a sound flogging, earned what many older folk covet much 
— the very decided fear of most of his companions. 

He was a remarkable boy, and by no means a bad one. 
25 Tom stuck to him till he left, and got into many scrapes by 
so doing. But he was the great opponent of the tale-bearing 
habits of the school, and the open enemy of the ushers; and 
so worthy of all support. 

Tom imbibed a fair amount of Latin and Greek at the school, 
30 but somehow on the whole it didn’t suit him, or he it, and in 
the holidays he was constantly working the Squire to send 
him at once to a public school. Great was his joy then, when 
in the middle of his third half-year, in October, 183 -, a fever 
broke out in the village, and the master having himself slightly 
35 sickened of it, the whole of the boys were sent off at a day’s 
notice to their respective homes. 

The Squire was not quite so pleased as Master Tom to see 
that young gentleman’s brown merry face appear at home, 
some two months before the proper time, for Christmas holi- 
40 days: and so after putting on his thinking cap, he retired to 
his study and wrote several letters, the result of which w^as, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


47 


that one morning at the breakfast table, about a fortnight after 
Tom’s return, he addressed his wife with — ‘‘ My dear, I have 
arranged that Tom shall go to Rugby ° at once, for the last 
six weeks of this half-year, instead of wasting them, in riding 
and loitering about home. It is very kind of the Doctor to 5 
allow it. Will you see that his things are all ready by Friday, 
when I shall take him up to town, and send him down the 
next day by himself.” 

Mrs. Brown was prepared for the announcement, and merely 
suggested a doubt whether Tom were yet old enough to travel lo 
by himself. However, finding both father and son against 
her on this point, she gave in, like a wise woman, and proceeded 
to prepare Tom’s kit for his launch into a public school. 


CHAPTER IV 


“Let the steam-pot hiss till it’s hot, 

Give me the speed of the Tantivy trot.” 

— Coaching Song, by R. E. E. W arhurton, Esq. 

‘‘Now, sir, time to get up, if you please. Tally-ho coach 
for Leicester ’ll be round in half an hour, and don’t wait for 
nobody.” So spake the Boots of the Peacock Inn, Islington,® 
at half-past two o’clock on the morning of a day in the early 
5 part of November, 183 -, giving Tom at the same time a shake 
by the shoulder, and then putting down a candle and carrying 
off his shoes to clean. 

Tom and his father had arrived in town® from Berkshire 
the day before, and finding, on inquiry, that the Birmingham 
lo coaches which ran from the city did not pass through Rugby, 
but deposited their passengers at Dunchurch, a village three 
miles distant on the main road, where said passengers had to 
wait for the Oxford and Leicester coach in the evening, or to 
take a post-chaise — had resolved that Tom should travel 
IS down by the Tally-ho, which diverged from the main road and 
passed through Rugby itself. And as the Tally-ho was an 
early coach, they had driven out to the Peacock to be on the 
road. 

Tom had never been in London, and would have liked to 
20 have stopped at the Belle Savage, where they had been put 
down by the Star, just at dusk, that he might have gone roving 
about those endless, mysterious, gas-lit streets, which, with 
their glare and hum and moving crowds, excited him so that 
he couldn’t talk even. But as soon as he found that the Pea- 
25 cock arrangement would get him to Rugby by twelve o’clock 
in the day, whereas otherwise he wouldn’t be there till the 
evening, all other plans melted away; his one absorbing aim 
being to become a public schoolboy as fast as possible, and 

48 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


49 


six hours sooner or later seeming to him of the most alarming 
importance. 

Tom and his father had alighted at the Peacock at about 
seven in the evening; and having heard with unfeigned joy 
the paternal order, at the bar, of steaks and oyster sauce for 5 
supper in half an hour, and seen his father seated cosily by 
the bright fire in the coffee-room with the paper in his hand — 
Tom had run out to see about him, had wondered at all the 
vehicles passing and repassing, and had fraternized with the 
boots and ostler, from whom he ascertained that the Tally-ho 10 
was a tiptop goer, ten miles an hour including stoppages, and 
so punctual that all the road set their clocks by her. 

Then being summoned to supper, he had regaled himself 
in one of the bright little boxes of the Peacock coffee-room, 
on the beefsteak and unlimited oyster sauce and brown stout ° 15 
(tasted then for the first time — a day to be marked forever 
by Tom with a white stone); had at first attended I0 the 
excellent advice which his father was bestowing on him from 
over his glass of steaming brandy-and-water, and then began 
nodding, from the united effects of the stout, the fire, and the 20 
lecture; till the Squire, observing Tom’s state, and remember- 
ing that it was nearly nine o’clock, and that the Tally-ho left 
at three, sent the little fellow off to the chambermaid, with 
a shake of the hand (Tom having stipulated in the morning 
before starting, that kissing should now cease between them), 25 
and a few parting words. 

'‘And now, Tom, my boy,” said the Squire, "remember 
you are going, at your own earnest request, to be chucked into 
this great school, like a young bear, with all your troubles 
before you — earlier than we should have sent you perhaps. 30 
If schools are what they were in my time, you’ll see a great 
many cruel blackguard things done, and hear a deal of foul 
bad talk. But never fear. You tell the truth, keep a brave 
and kind heart, and never listen to or say anything you wouldn’t 
have your mother and sister hear, and you’ll never feel ashamed 35 
to come home, or we to see you.” 

The allusion to his mother made Tom feel rather chokey, 
and he would have liked to have hugged his father well, if it 
hadn’t been for the recent stipulation. 

As it was, he only squeezed his father’s hand, and looked 40 
bravely up and said, "I’ll try, father.” 

E 


50 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


know you will, my boy. Is your money all safe?” 

^‘Yes,” said Tom, diving into one pocket to make sure. 

^‘And your keys?” said the Squire. 

^'All right,” said Tom, diving into the other pocket. 

5 “ Well then, good night. God bless you ! I’ll tell Boots 

to call you, and be up to see you off.” 

Tom was carried off by the chambermaid in a brown study, 
from which he was roused in a clean little attic, by that buxom 
person calling him a little darling, and kissing him as she left 
lo the room ; which indignity he was too much surprised to resent. 
And still thinking of his father’s last words, and the look with 
which they were spoken, he knelt down and prayed, that, 
come what might, he might never bring shame or sorrow on 
the dear folk at home. 

IS Indeed, the Squire’s last words deserved to have their effect, 
for they had been the result of much anxious thought. All 
the way up to London he had pondered what he should say 
to Tom by way of parting advice; something that the boy 
could keep in his head ready for use. By way of assisting 
20 meditation, he had even gone the length of taking out his 
flint and steel and tinder, and hammering away for a quarter 
of an hour till he had manufactured a light for a long Tri- 
chinopoli° cheroot, which he silently puffed; to the no small 
wonder of coachee, who was an old friend, and an institution 
25 on the Bath road, and who always expected a talk on the pros- 
pects and doings, agricultural and social, of the whole county 
when he carried the Squire. 

To condense the Squire’s meditation, it was somewhat as 
follows: ‘‘I won’t tell him to read his Bible, and love and 
30 serve God ; if he don’t do that for his mother’s sake and teach- 
ing, he won’t for mine. Shall I go into the sort of tempta- 
tions he’ll meet with? No, I can’t do that. Never do for an 
old fellow to go into such things with a boy. He won’t under- 
stand me. Do him more harm than good, ten to one. Shall 
35 I tell him to mind his work, and say he’s sent to school to 
make himself a good scholar? Well, but he isn’t sent to 
school for that — at any rate, not for that mainly. I don’t 
care a straw for Greek particles, or the digamma; no more 
does his mother. What is he sent to school for°? Well, 
40 partly because he wanted so to go. If he’ll only turn out a 
brave, helpful, truth-telling Englishman, and a gentleman 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


51 


and a Christian, that’s all I want,” thought the Squire; and 
upon this view of the case framed his last words of advice to 
Tom, which were well enough suited to his purpose. 

For they were Tom’s first thoughts as he tumbled out of 
bed at the summons of Boots, and proceeded rapidly to wash 5 
and dress himself. At ten minutes to three he was down in 
the coffee-room in his stockings, carrying his hat-box, coat, 
and comforter in his hand ; and there he found his father 
nursing a bright fire, and a cup of hot coffee and a hard biscuit 
on the table. 10 

“Now then, Tom, give us your things here, and drink this; 
there’s nothing like starting warm, old fellow.” 

Tom addressed himself to the coffee, and prattled away 
while he worked himself into his shoes and his greatcoat, 
well warmed through; a Petersham coat° with velvet collar, 15 
made tight after the abominable fashion of those days. And 
just as he is swallowing his last mouthful, winding his com- 
forter round his throat, and tucking the ends into the breast 
of his coat, the horn sounds, Boots looks in and says, “Tally-ho, 
sir”; and they hear the ring and the rattle of the four fast 20 
trotters and the town-made drag, as it dashes up to the Pea- 
cock. 

“Anything for us. Bob?” says the burly guard, dropping 
down from behind, and slapping himself across the chest. 

“Young genl’m’n, Rugby; three parcels, Leicester; ham- 25 
per o’ game, Rugby,” answers Ostler. 

“Tell young gent to look alive,” says Guard, opening the 
hind-boot and shooting in the parcels after examining them 
by the lamps. “ Here, shove the portmanteau up a-top — 
I’ll fasten him presently. Now then, sir, jump up behind.” 30 
“Good-by, father — my love at home.” A last shake of 
the hand. Up goes Tom, the guard catching his hat-box 
and holding on with one hand, while with the other he claps 
the horn to his mouth. Toot, toot, toot ! the ostlers let go 
their heads, the four bays plunge at the collar, and away goes 35 
the Tally-ho into the darkness, forty-five seconds from the 
time they pulled up; Ostler, Boots, and the Squire stand 
looking after them under the Peacock lamp. 

“Sharp work!” says the Squire, and goes in again to his 
bed, the coach being well out of sight and hearing. 4q 

Tom stands up on the coach and looks back at his father’s 


52 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


figure as long as he can see it, and then the guard having dis- 
posed of his luggage conies to an anchor, and finishes his but- 
tonings and other preparations for facing the three hours before 
dawn ; no joke for those who minded cold, on a fast coach in 
S November, in the reign of his late majesty. 

I sometimes think that you boys of this generation are a 
deal tenderer fellows than we used to be. At any rate you're 
much more comfortable travellers, for I see every one of you 
with his rug or plaid, and other dodges for preserving the 
lo caloric, and most of you going in those fuzzy, dusty, padded 
first-class carriages. It was another affair altogether, a dark 
ride on the top of the Tally-ho, ° I can tell you, in a tight 
Petersham coat, and your feet dangling six inches from the 
floor. Then you knew what cold was, and what it was to be 
15 without legs, for not a bit of feeling had you in them after 
the first half-hour. But it had its pleasures, the old dark ride. 
First there was the consciousness of silent endurance, so dear 
to every Englishman, — of standing out against something, 
and not giving in. Then there was the music of the rattling 
20 harness, and the ring of the horses’ feet on the hard road, 
and the glare of the two bright lamps through the steaming 
hoar-frost, over the leaders’ ears, into the darkness; and 
the cheery toot of the guard’s horn, to warn some drowsy 
pikeman or the ostler at the next change ; and the looking 
25 forward to daylight — and last, but not least, the delight of 
returning sensation in your toes. 

Then the break of dawn and the sunrise, where can they 
be ever seen in perfection but from a coach roof? You want 
motion and change and music to see them in their glory; not 
30 the music of singing-men and singing-women, but good silent 
music, which sets itself in your own head, the accompaniment 
of work and getting over the ground. 

The Tally-ho is past St. Alban’s, and Tom is enjoying the 
ride, though half frozen. The guard, who is alone with him 
35 on the back of the coach, is silent, but has muffled Tom’s feet 
up in straw, and put the end of an oatsack over his knees. 
The darkness has driven him inw^ards, and he has gone over 
his little past life, and thought of all his doings and promises, 
and of his mother and sister, and his father’s last words; and 
40 has made fifty good resolutions, and means to bear himself 
like a brave Brown as he is, though a young one. Then he 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


53 


has been forward into the mysterious boy-future, speculating 
as to what sort of a place Rugby is, and what they do there, 
and calling up all the stories of public schools which he has 
heard from big boys in the holidays.' He is chock full of hope 
and life, notwithstanding the cold, and kicks his heels against 5 
the backboard, and would like to sing, only he doesn’t know 
how his friend the silent guard might take it. 

And now the dawn breaks at the end of the fourth stage, 
and the coach pulls up at a little roadside inn with huge stables 
behind. There is a bright fire gleaming through the red cur- 10 
tains of the bar window, and the door is open. The coach- 
man catches his whip into a double thong, and throws it to 
the ostler; the steam of the horses rises straight up into the 
air. He has put them along over the last two miles, and is 
two minutes before his time; he rolls down from the box and 15 
into the inn. The guard rolls off behind. ‘‘Now, sir,” says 
he to Tom, “you just jump down, and I’ll give you a drop of 
something to keep the cold out.” 

Tom finds a difficulty in jumping, or indeed in finding the 
top of the wheel with his feet, which may be in the next world 20 
for all he feels; so the guard picks him off the coach top, and 
sets him on his legs, and they stump off into the bar, and join 
the coachman and the other outside passengers. 

Here a fresh-looking barmaid serves them each with a glass 
of early purl° as they stand before the fire, coachman and guard 25 
exchanging business remarks. The purl warms the cockles 
of Tom’s hearty and makes him cough. 

“Rare tackle, that, sir, of a cold morning,” says the coach- 
man, smiling; “time’s up.” They are out again and up; 
coachee the last, gathering the reins into his hands and talk- 30 
ing to Jem the ostler about the mare’s shoulder, and then 
swinging himself up on to the box — the horses dashing off 
in a canter before he falls into his seat. Toot-toot-tootle-too 
goes the horn, and away they are again, five-and -thirty miles 
on their road (nearly halfway to Rugby thinks Tom), and the 35 
prospect of breakfast at the end of the stage. 

And now they begin to see, and the early life of the country- 
side comes out; a market cart or two, men in smock-frocks 
going to their work pipe in mouth, a whiff of which is no bad 
smell this bright morning. The sun gets up, and the mist 40 
shines like silver gauze. They pass the hounds jogging along 


^4 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


to a distant meet, at the heels of the huntsman’s hack,® whose 
face is about the colour of the tails of his old pink, as he ex- 
changes greetings with coachman and guard. Now they pull 
up at a lodge and take on board a well-muffled-up sportsman, 
5 with his gun case and carpet-bag. An early upcoach meets 
them, and the coachmen gather up their horses, and pass one 
another with the accustomed lift of the elbow, each team doing 
eleven miles an hour, with a mile to spare behind if necessary. 
And here comes breakfast. 

lo Twenty minutes here, gentlemen,” says the coachman, 
as they pull up at half-past seven at the inn door. 

Have we not endured nobly this morning, and is not this 
a worthy reward for much endurance? There is the low dark 
wainscoted room hung with sporting prints; the hat-stand 
15 (with a whip or two standing up in it belonging to bagmen 
who are still snug in bed) by the door; the blazing fire, with 
the quaint old glass over the mantelpiece, in which is stuck 
a large card with the list of the meets for the week of the 
county hounds. The table covered with the whitest of cloths 
20 and of china, and bearing a pigeon pie, ham, round of cold 
boiled beef cut from a mammoth ox, and the great loaf of 
household bread on a wooden trencher. And here comes 
in the stout head waiter, pufflng under a tray of hot viands; 
kidneys and a steak, transparent rashers and poached eggs, 
25 buttered toast and mufflns, coffee and tea, all smoking hot. 
The table can never hold it all; the cold meats are removed 
to the sideboard, they were only put on for show and to give 
us an appetite. And now fall on, gentlemen all. It is a well- 
known sporting-house, and the breakfasts are famous. Two 
30 or three men in pink, on their way to the meet, drop in, and 
are very jovial and sharp-set, as indeed we all are. 

“Tea or coffee, sir ? ” says head waiter, coming round to Tom. 

“Coffee, please,” says Tom, with his mouth full of muffin 
and kidney; coffee is a treat to him, tea is not. 

35 Our coachman, I perceive, who breakfasts with us, is a cold- 
beef man. He also eschews hot potations, and addicts himself 
to a tankard of ale, which is brought him by the barmaid. 
Sportsman looks on approvingly, and orders a ditto for himself. 

Tom has eaten kidney and pigeon pie, and imbibed coffee, 
40 till his little skin is as tight as a drum ; and then has the 
further pleasure of paying head waiter out of his own purse 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


ho 


in a dignified manner, and walks out before the inn door to' 
see the horses put to. This is done leisurely and in a highly 
finished manner by the ostlers, as if they enjoyed the not 
being hurried. Coachman comes out with his way-bill and 
puffing a fat cigar which the sportsman has given him. Guard 5 
emerges from the tap, where he prefers breakfasting, licking 
round a tough-looking doubtful cheroot, which you might 
tie round your finger, and three whiffs of which would knock 
any one else out of time. 

The pinks stand about the inn door lighting cigars and 10 
waiting to see us start, while their hacks are led up and down 
the market-place, on which the inn looks. They all know 
our sportsman, and we feel a reflected credit when we see him 
chatting and laughing with them. 

‘'Now, sir, please,^’ says the coachman; all the rest of the 15 
passengers are up; the guard is locking the hind-boot. 

“A good run to you says the sportsman to the pinks, and 
is by the coachman’s side in no time. 

“Let ’em go, Dick!” The ostlers fly back, drawing off 
the cloths from their glossy loins, and away we go through 20. 
the market-place and down the High Street, looking in at the 
first-floor windows, and seeing several worthy burgesses shav- 
ing thereat; while all the shop-boys who are cleaning the 
windows, and housemaids who are doing the steps, stop and 
look pleased as we rattle past, as if we were a part of their 25 
legitimate morning’s amusement. We clear the town, and 
are well out between the hedgerows again as the town clock 
strikes eight. 

The sun shines almost warmly, and breakfast has oiled all 
springs and loosened all tongues. Tom is encouraged by 30 
a remark or two of the guard’s between the puffs of his oily 
cheroot, and besides is getting tired of not talking. He is 
too full of his destination to talk about anything else; and so 
asks the guard if he knows Rugby. 

“Goes through it every day of my life. Twenty minutes 35 
afore twelve down° — ten o’clock up.” 

“What sort of a place is it, please?” says Tom. 

Guard looks at him with a comical expression. “ Werry out- 
o’-the-way place, sir; no paving to streets, nor no lighting.® 
’Mazin’ big horse and cattle fair in autumn — lasts a week — 40 
just over now. Takes town a week to get clean after it. 


56 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


Fairish hunting country. But slow place, sir, slow place: 
off the main road, you see — only three coaches a day, and one 
on ’em a two-’oss wan, more like a hearse nor a coach — • 
Regulator — comes from Oxford. Young genl’m’n at school 
5 calls her Pig and Whistle, and goes up to college by her (six 
miles an hour) when they goes to enter. Belong to school, 
sir?” 

‘‘Yes,” says Tom, not unwilling for a moment that the 
guard should think him an old boy. But then having some 
lo qualms as to the truth of the assertion, and seeing that if he 
were to assume the character of an old boy he couldn’t go on 
asking the questions he w^anted, added — “that is to say, 
I’m on my way there. I’m a new boy.” 

The guard looked as if he knew this quite as w^ell as Tom. 
15 “You’re werry late, sir,” says the guard; “only six weeks 
to-day to the end of the half.” Tom assented. “We takes 
up fine loads this day six w^eeks, and Monday and Tuesday 
arter. Hopes we shall have the pleasure of carrying you back.” 

Tom said he hoped they would; but he thought within 
20 himself that his fate would probably be the Pig and Whistle. 

“ It pays uncommon cert’nly,” continues the guard. “ Werry 
free with their cash is the young genl’m’n. But, Lor’ bless 
you, we gets into such rows all ’long the road, wdiat wi’ their 
pea-shooters, and long whips, and hollering, and upsetting 
25 every one as comes by; I’d a sight sooner carry one or tw'o 
on ’em, sir, as I may be a-carryin’ of you now, than a coach 
load.” 

“What do they do with the pea-shooters?” inquires Tom. 

“ Do wi’ ’em ! Why, peppers every one’s faces as we comes 
30 near, ’cept the young gals, and breaks windows wi’ them too, 
some on ’em shoots so hard. Now ’twas just here last June, 
as we was a-drivin’ up the first-day boys, they was mendin’ 
a quarter-mile of road, and there was a lot of Irish chaps, 
reg’lar roughs, a-breaking stones. As we comes up, ‘Now, 
35 boys,’ says jmung gent on the box (smart young fellow and 
desper’t reckless), ‘here’s fun! let the Pats have it about the 
ears.’ ‘God’s sake, sir!’ says Bob (that’s my mate the coach- 
man), ‘don’t go for to shoot at ’em, they’ll knock us off the 
coach.’ ‘Damme, Coachee,’ says young my lord, ‘you ain’t 
40 afraid; hoora, boys! let ’em have it.’ ‘Hoora!’ sings out 
the others, and fill their mouths chock full of peas to last the 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


57 


whole line. Bob seeing as ’twas to come, knocks his hat 
over his eyes, hollers to his ’osses, and shakes ’em up, and 
away we goes up the line on ’em, twenty miles an hour. The 
Pats begin to hoora too, thinking it was a runaway, and first 
lot on ’em stands grinnin’ and wavin’ their old hats as we 
comes abreast on ’em; and then you’d ha’ laughed to see how 
took aback and choking savage they looked, when they gets 
the peas a-stinging all over ’em. But bless you, the laugh 
weren’t all of our side, sir, by a long way. We was going so 
fast, and they was so took aback, that they didn’t take what 
was up till we was halfway up the line. Then ’twas, dook 
out all,’ surely. They howls all down the line fit to frighten 
you, some on ’em runs arter us and tries to clamber up behind, 
only w’^e hits ’em over the fingers and pulls their hands off; 
one as had had it very sharp act’ly runs right at the leaders, 
as though he’d ketch ’em by the heads, only luck’ly for him 
he misses his tip, and comes over a heap o’ stones first. The 
rest picks up stones, and gives it us right away till we gets 
out of shot, the young gents holding out werry manful with 
the pea-shooters and such stones as lodged on us, and a pretty 
many there was too. Then Bob picks hissclf up again, and 
looks at young gent on box wherry solemn. Bob’d had a rum 
un in the ribs, which’d like to ha’ knocked him off the box, 
or made him drop the reins. Young gent on box picks hisself 
up, and so does we all, and looks round to count damage. 
Box’s head cut open and his hat gone; ’nother young gent’s 
hat gone; mine knocked in at the side, and not one on us as 
wasn’t black and blue somewheres or another, most on ’em 
all over. Two pound ten to pay for damage to paint, which 
they subscribed for there and then, and give Bob and me 
a extra half-sovereign each; but I wouldn’t go down that line 
again not for twenty half-sovereigns.” And the guard shook 
his head slowly, and got up and blew a clear brisk toot-toot. 

‘'What fun!” said Tom, who could scarcely contain his 
pride at this exploit of his future school-fellows. He longed 
already for the end of the half that he might join them. 

“’Tain’t such good fun though, sir, for the folk as meets 
the coach, nor for we who has to go back with it next day. 
Them Irishers last summer had all got stones ready for us, 
and was all but letting drive, and we’d got two reverend gents 
aboard too. We pulled up at the beginning of the line, and 


5 

10 

15 

20 

25 

30 

35 

40 


58 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


pacified them, and we’re never going to carry no more pea- 
shooters, unless they promises not to fire where there’s a line 
of Irish chaps a-stone-breaking.” The guard stopped and 
pulled away at his cheroot, regarding Tom benignantly the 
5 while. 

“ Oh, don’t stop ! tell us something more about the pea- 
shooting.” 

“Well, there’d like to have been a pretty piece of work 
over it at Bicester, a while back. We was six mile from the 
lo town, when we meets an old square-headed gray-haired yeo- 
man chap, a-jogging along quite quiet. He looks up at the 
coach, and just then a pea hits him on the nose, and some 
catches his cob behind and makes him dance up on his hind 
legs. I see’d the old boy’s face flush and look plaguy awk- 
15 ward, and I thought we was in for somethin’ nasty. 

“ He turns his cob’s head, and rides quietly after us just 
out of shot. How that ere cob did step ! we never shook 
him off not a dozen yards in the six miles. At first the young 
gents was werry lively on him; but afore we got in, seeing 
20 how steady the old chap come on, they was quite quiet, and 
laid their heads together what they should do. Some was for 
fighting, some for axing his pardon. He rides into the town 
close after us, comes up when we stops, and says the two as 
shot at him must come before a magistrate ; and a great crowd 
25 comes round, and we couldn’t get the ’osses to. But the young 
uns they all stand by one another, and says all or none must 
go, and as how they’d fight it out, and have to be carried. 
Just as ’twas gettin’ serious, and the old boy and the mob 
was going to pull ’em off the coach, one little fellow jumps 
30 up and says, ‘ Here, — I’ll stay — I’m only going three miles 
further. My father’s name’s Davis; he’s known about here, 
and I’ll go before the magistrate with this gentleman.’ ‘ What ! 
be thee parson Davis’ son?’ says the old boy. ‘Yes,’ says 
the young un. ‘Well, I be mortal sorry to meet thee in such 
35 company, but for thy father’s sake and thine (for thee bi’st 
a brave young chap) I’ll say no more about it.’ Didn’t the 
boys cheer him, and the mob cheered the young chap — 
and then one of the biggest gets down, and begs his pardon 
werry gentlemanly for all the rest, saying as they all had been 
40 plaguy vexed from the first, but didn’t like to ax his pardon 
till then, ’cause they felt they hadn’t ought to shirk the con- 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


59 


sequences of their joke. And then they all got down, and 
shook hands with the old boy, and asked him to all parts of 
the country, to their homes, and we drives off twenty minutes 
behind time, with cheering and hollering as if we was county 
members. But, Lor’ bless you, sir,” says the guard, smack- 5 
ing his hand down on his knee and looking full into Tom’s 
face, ‘Hen minutes arter they was all as bad as ever.” 

Tom showed such undisguised and open-mouthed interest 
in his narrations, that the old guard rubbed up his memory, 
and launched out into a graphic history of all the performances 10 
of the boys on the road for the last twenty years. Off the 
road he couldn’t go; the exploit must have been connected 
with horses or vehicles to hang in the old fellow’s head. Tom 
tried him off his own ground once or twice, but found he knew 
nothing beyond, and so let him have his head, and the rest 15 
of the road bowled easily away; for old Blow-hard (as the 
boys called him) was a dry old file, with much kindness and 
humour, and a capital spinner of a yarn when he had broken 
the neck of his day’s work, and got plenty of ale under his 
belt. 26 

What struck Tom’s youthful imagination most was the 
desperate and lawless character of most of the stories. Was 
the guard hoaxing him? He couldn’t help hoping that they 
were true. It’s very odd how almost all English boys love 
danger; you can get ten to join a game, or climb a tree, or 25 
swim a stream, when there’s a chance of breaking their limbs 
or getting drowned, for one who’ll stay on level ground, or 
in his depth, or play quoits or bowls. 

The guard had just finished an account of a desperate fight 
which had happened at one of the fairs between the drovers 3° 
and the farmers with their whips, and the boys with cricket- 
bats and wickets, which arose out of a playful but objection- 
able practice of the boys going round to the public-houses 
and taking the linch-pins out of the wheels of the gigs, and 
was moralizing upon the way in which the Doctor, “a terrible 35 
stern man he’d heard tell,” had come down upon several of 
the performers, “sending three on ’em off next morning, each 
in a po-shay with a parish constable,” when they turned a 
corner and neared the milestone, the third from Rugby. By 
the stone two boys stood, their jackets buttoned tight, waiting 40 
for the coach. 


60 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


''Look here, sir,” says the guard, after giving a sharp toot- 
toot, "there’s two on ’em, out and out runners they be. They 
comes out about twice or three times a week, and spirts a mile 
alongside of us.” 

5 And as they came up, sure enough, away went two boys 
along the footpath, keeping up with the horses; the first a 
light clean-made fellow going on springs, the other stout and 
round-shouldered, labouring in his pace, but going as dogged 
as a bull-terrier. 

lo Old Blow-hard looked on admiringly. "See how beautiful 
that there un holds hisself together, and goes from his hips, 
sir,” said he; "he’s a ’mazin’ fine runner. Now many coach- 
men as drives a first-rate team ’d put it on, and try and pass 
’em. But Bob, sir, bless you, he’s tender-hearted; he’d 
15 sooner pull in a bit if he see’d ’em a-gettin’ beat. I do b’lieve 
too as that there un ’d sooner break his heart than let us go 
by him afore next milestone.” 

At the second milestone the boys pulled up short, and 
waved their hats to the guard, who had his watch out and 
20 shouted " 4 . 56 ,” thereby indicating that the mile had been 
done in four seconds under the five minutes. They passed 
several more parties of boys, all of them objects of the deepest 
interest to Tom, and came in sight of the town at ten minutes 
before twelve. Tom fetched a long breath, and thought he 
25 had never spent a pleasanter day. Before he went to bed 
he had quite settled that it must be the greatest day he should 
ever spend, and didn’t alter -his opinion for many a long 
year — if he has yet. 


CHAPTER V 


RUGBY AND FOOTBALL 

“ — Foot and eye opposed 
In dubious strife.’’ — Scott. 

'^And so here’s Rugby, sir, at last, and you’ll be in plenty 
of time for dinner at the Schoolhouse, as I tell’d you,” said 
the old guard, pulling his horn out of its case, and tootle- 
tooing away; while the coachman shook up his horses, and 5 
carried them along the side of the school close, round Dead- 
man’s corner, past the school gates, and down the High Street 
to the Spread Eagle; the wheelers in a spanking trot, and 
leaders cantering, in a style which would not have disgraced 
“Cherry Bob,” “ramping, stamping, tearing, swearing Billy 10 
Harwood,” or any other of the old coaching heroes. 

Tom’s heart beat quick as he passed the great school field 
or close,® with its noble elms, in which several games at foot- 
ball were going on, and tried to take in at once the long line 
of gray buildings,® beginning with the chapel, and ending 15 
with the Schoolhouse, the residence of the head-master, where 
the great flag was lazily waving from the highest round tower. 
And he began already to be proud of being a Rugby boy, as 
he passed the school gates, with the oriel-window above,® 
and saw the boys standing there, looking as if the town be- 20 
longed to them, and nodding in a familiar manner to the coach- 
man, as if any one of them would be quite equal to getting on 
the box, and working the team down street as well as he. 

One of the young heroes, however, ran out from the rest, 
and scrambled up behind ; where, having righted himself, 25 
and nodded to the guard, with “How do, Jem?” he turned 
short round to Tom, and, after looking him over for a minute, 
began — 


61 


62 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


‘‘1 say, you fellow, is your name Brown?’’ 

‘‘Yes,” said Tom, in considerable astonishment, glad how- 
ever to have lighted on some one already who seemed to know 
him. 

5 “Ah, I thought so: you know my old aunt. Miss East, 
she lives somewhere down your way in Berkshire. She wrote 
to me that you were coming to-day, and asked me to give 
you a lift.” 

Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the patronizing air 
lo of his new friend, a boy of just about his own height and age, 
but gifted with the most transcendent coolness and assurance, 
which Tom felt to be aggravating and hard to bear, but couldn’t 
for the life of him help admiring and envying — especially 
when young my lord begins hectoring two or three long loaf- 
15 ing fellows, half porter half stableman, with a strong touch 
of the blackguard; and in the end arranges with one of them, 
nicknamed Gooey, to carry Tom’s luggage up to the School- 
house® for sixpence. 

“And heark’ee. Gooey, it must be up in ten minutes, or no 
20 more jobs from me. Gome along, Brown.” And away 
swaggers the young potentate, with his hands in his pockets, 
and Tom at his side. 

“All right, sir,” says Gooey, touching his hat, with a leer 
and a wink at his companions. 

25 “Hullo tho’,” says East, pulling up, and taking another 
look at Tom, “this’ll never do — haven’t you got a hat?® — 
we never wear caps here. Only the louts wear caps. Bless 
you, if you were to go into the quadrangle with that thing 

on, I don’t know what’d happen.” The very idea was 

30 quite beyond young Master East, and he looked unutterable 
things. 

Tom thought his cap a very knowing affair, but confessed 
that he had a hat in his hat-box; which was accordingly at 
once extracted from the hind-boot, and Tom equipped in his 
35 go-to-meeting roof, as his new friend called it. But this didn’t 
quite suit his fastidious taste in another minute, being too 
shiny; so, as they walk up the town, they dive into Nixon’s 
the hatter, and Tom is arrayed, to his utter astonishment, 
and without paying for it, in a regulation catskin at seven-and- 
40 sixpence,® Nixon undertaking to send the best hat up to the 
matron’s room, Schoolhouse, in half an hour. 


TOM brown’s school DAYS 


63 


“You can send in a note for a tile® on Monday, and make it 
all right, you know,” said Mentor; “we’re allowed two seven- 
and-sixers® a half, besides what we bring from home.” 

Tom by this time began to be conscious of his new social 
position and dignities, and to luxuriate in the realized ambition 5 
of being a public school boy at last, with a vested right of spoil- 
ing two seven-and-sixers in half a year. 

“ You see,” said his friend, as they strolled up towards the 
school gates, in explanation of his conduct, “a great deal 
depends on how a fellow cuts up at first. If he’s got nothing 10 
odd about him, and answers straightforward, and holds his 
head up, he gets on. Now you’ll do very w’ell as to rig, all but 
that cap. You see I’m doing the handsome thing by you, 
because my father knows yours; besides, I want to please the 
old lady. She gave me half-a-sov’ this half, and perhaps ’ll 15 
double it next, if I keep in her good books.” 

There’s nothing like candour for a lower schoolboy, and East 
was a genuine specimen — frank, hearty, and good-natured, 
well satisfied with himself and his position, and chock full of 
life and spirits, and all the Rugby prejudices and traditions 20 
which he had been able to get together, in the long course 
of one half year during which he had been at the Schoolhouse. 

And Tom, notwithstanding his bumptiousness, felt friends 
with him at once, and began sucking in all his ways and preju- 
dices, as fast as he could understand them. 25 

East was great in the character of cicerone; he carried Tom 
through the great gates, where were only two or three boys. 
These satisfied themselves with the stock questions, — “You 
fellow, what’s your name? Where do you come from? How 
old are you? Where do you board? and. What form are you 30 
in ? ” — and so they passed on through the quadrangle and a 
small courtyard, upon which looked down a lot of little windows 
(belonging, as his guide informed him, to some of the School- 
house studies, into the matron’s room, where East introduced 
Tom to that dignitary; made him give up the key of his 35 
trunk, that the matron might unpack his linen, and told the 
story of the hat and of his own presence of mind : upon 
the relation whereof the matron laughingly scolded him, for 
the coolest new boy in the house ; and East, indignant at the 
accusation of newness, marched Tom off into the quadrangle,® 4° 
and began showing him the schools, and examining him as to his 


64 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


literary attainments ; the result of which was a prophecy that 
they would be in the same form, and could do their lessons 
together. 

“And now come in and see my study; we shall have just 
5 time before dinner; and afterwards, before calling-over, we’ll 
do the close.” 

Tom followed his guide through the Schoolhouse hall,° 
which opens into the quadrangle. It is a great room thirty 
feet long and eighteen high, or thereabouts, with two great 
lo tables running the whole length, and two large fireplaces at 
the side, with blazing fires in them, at one of which some dozen 
boys were standing and lounging, some of whom shouted to 
East to stop ; but he shot through with his convoy, and landed 
him in the long dark passages, with a large fire at the end of 
15 each, upon which the studies opened. Into one of these, in 
the bottom passage, East bolted with our hero, slamming and 
bolting the door b^ehind them, in case of pursuit from the hall, 
and Tom was for the first time in a Rugby boy’s citadel. 

He hadn’t been prepared for separate studies,® and was not 
20 a little astonished and delighted with the palace in question. 

It wasn’t very large certainly, being about six feet long by 
four broad. It couldn’t be called light, as there were bars and 
a grating to the window; which little precautions were neces- 
sary in the studies on the ground floor looking out into the 
25 close, to prevent the exit of small boys after locking-up, and 
the entrance of contraband articles. But it was uncommonly 
. comfortable to look at, Tom thought. The space under the 
window at the further end was occupied by a square table 
covered with a reasonably clean and whole red-and-blue check 
30 tablecloth ; a hard-seated sofa covered with red stuff occupied 
one side, running up to the end, and making a seat for one, or 
by sitting close, for two, at the table ; and a good stout wooden 
chair afforded a seat to another boy, so that three could sit and 
work together. The walls were wainscoted halfway up, the 
35 wainscot being covered with green baize, the remainder with 
a bright-patterned paper, on which hung three or four print? 
of dogs’ heads, Grimaldi winning the Aylesbury steeplechase, 
Amy Robsart,® the reigning Waverley beauty of the day, and 
Tom Crib® in a posture of defence, which did no credit to the 
40 science of that hero, if truly represented. Over the door were 
a row of hat-pegs, and on each side bookcases with cupboards 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 65 

at the bottom; shelves and cupboards being filled indiscrimi- 
nately with schoolbooks, a cup or two, a mouse-trap and brass 
candlesticks, leather straps, a fustian bag, and some curious- 
looking articles, which puzzled Tom not a little, until his friend 
explained that they were climbing-irons, and showed their use. 5 
A cricket-bat and small fishing-rod stood up in one corner. 

This was the residence of East and another boy in the same 
form, and had more interest for Tom than Windsor Castle, or 
any other residence in the British Isles. For was he not about 
to become the joint owner of a similar home, the first place 10 
which he could call his own? One’s own — what a charm 
there is in the words ! How long it takes boy and man to find 
out their worth ! how fast most of us hold on to them ! faster 
and more jealously, the nearer we are to that general home into 
which we can take nothing, but must go naked as we came into 15 
the world. When shall we learn that he who multiplieth pos- 
sessions multiplieth troubles, and that the one single use of 
things which we call our own is that they may be his who hath 
need of them ? 

And shall I have a study like this, too? ” said Tom. 20 

“Yes, of course, you’ll be chummed with some fellow on 
Monday, and you can sit here till then.” 

“ Wliat nice places ! ” 

“They’re well enough,” answered East patronizingly, “only 
uncommon cold at nights® sometimes. Gower — that’s my 25 
chum — and I make a fire with paper on the floor after supper 
generally, only that makes it so smoky.” 

“But there’s a big fire out in the passage,” said Tom. 

“ Precious little good we get out of that though,” said East; 
“Jones the praepostor has the study at the fire end, and he 30 
has rigged up an iron rod and green baize curtain across the 
passage, which he draws at night, and sits there with his door 
open; so he gets all the fire, and hears if we come out of our 
studies after eight, or make a noise. However, he’s taken to 
sitting in the fifth-form room lately, so we do get a bit of fire 35 
now sometimes; only to keep a sharp lookout that he don’t 
catch you behind . his curtain when he comes down — that’s 
all.” 

A quarter past one now struck, and the bell began tolling for 
dinner, so they went into the hall and took their places, Tom 40 
at the very bottom of the second table, next to the praepostor 

F 


66 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


(who sat at the end to keep order there) , and East a few paces 
higher. And now Tom for the first time saw his future school- 
fellows in a body. In they came, some hot and ruddy from 
football or long walks, some pale and chilly from hard reading 
5 in their studies, some from loitering over the fire at the pastiy 
cook’s, dainty mortals, bringing with them pickles and sauce- 
bottles to help them with their dinners. And a great big- 
bearded man whom Tom took for a master began calling over 
the names, while the great Joints were being rapidly carved 
lo on a third table in the corner by the old verger and the house- 
keeper. Tom’s turn came last, and meanwhile he was all eyes, 
looking first with awe at the great man who sat close to him, and 
was helped first, and who read a hard-looking book all the time 
he was eating; and when he got up and walked off to the fire, 
15 at the small boys round him, some of whom were reading, and 
the rest talking in whispers to one another, or stealing one 
another’s bread, or shooting pellets, or digging their forks 
through the tablecloth. However, notwithstanding his curi- 
osity, he managed to make a capital dinner by the time the 
20 big man called “ Stand up !” and said grace. 

As soon as dinner was over, and Tom had been questioned by 
such of his neighbours as were curious as to his birth, parentage, 
education, and other like matters. East, who evidently enjoyed 
his new dignity of patron and Mentor, proposed having a look 
25 at the close, which Tom, athirst for knowledge, gladly a.ssented 
to, and they went out through the quadrangle and past the big 
fives’ court,® into the great playground. 

''That’s the chapel, you see,” said East, "and there Just 
behind it is the place for fights®; you see it’s most out of the 
30 way of the masters, who all live on the other side and don’t 
come by here after first lesson or calling-over. That’s w'hen 
the fights come off. And all this part where we are is the little 
side-ground, right up to the trees, and on the other side of the 
trees is the big side-ground, where the great matches are 
35 played. And there’s the island® in the furthest corner; you’ll 
know that well enough next half, when there’s island fagging. 
I say, it’s horrid cold, let’s have a run across,” and away went 
East, Tom close behind him. East was evidently putting his 
best foot foremost, and Tom, who was mighty proud of his 
40 running, and not a little anxious to show his friend that although 
a new boy he was no milksop, laid himself down to work in his 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


67 


very best style. Right across the close they went, each doing 
all he knew, and there wasn’t a yard between them when they 
pulled up at the island moat. 

‘‘I say,” said East, as soon as he got his wind, looking with 
much increased respect at Tom, ‘‘you ain’t a bad scud, not by 5 
no means. Well, I’m as warm as a toast now.” 

“But why do you wear white trousers in November?” said 
Tom. He had been struck by this peculiarity in the costume 
of almost all the Schoolhouse boys. 

“Why, bless us, don’t you know? — No, I forgot. Why, 10 
to-day’s the Schoolhouse match. Our house plays the whole 
of the School at football. ° And we all wear white trousers, 
to show ’em we don’t care for hacks.® You’re in luck to coine 
to-day. You just will see a match; and Brooke’s going to let 
me play in quarters. That’s more than he’ll do for any other 15 
lower schoolboy, except James, and he’s fourteen.” 

“Who’s Brooke?” 

“ Why, that big fellow who called over at dinner, to be sure. 
He’s cock of the school, and head of the Schoolhouse side, and 
the best kick and charger in Rugby.” 20 

“ Oh, but do show me where they play. And tell me about 
it. I love football so, and have played all my life. Won’t 
Brooke let me play?” 

“Not he,” said East, with some indignation; “why, you 
don’t know the rules — you’ll be a month learning them. And 25 
then it’s no joke playing-up in a match, I can tell you. Quite 
another thing from your private school games. Why, there’s 
been two collar-bones broken this half, and a dozen fellows 
lamed. And last year a fellow had his leg broken.” 

Tom listened with the profoundest respect to this chapter of 30 
accidents, and followed East across the level ground till they 
came to a sort of gigantic gallows of two poles eighteen feet high, 
fixed upright in the ground some fourteen feet apart, with a 
cross-bar running from one to the other at the height of ten feet 
or thereabouts. 35 

“This is one of the goals,” said East, “and you see the other, 
across there, right opposite, under the Doctor’s wall. Well, 
the match is for the best of three goals; whichever side kicks 
two goals wins : and it won’t do, you see, just to kick the ball 
through these posts, it must go over the cross-bar; any height ’ll 40 
do, so long as it’s between the posts. You’ll have to stay in 


68 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


goal to touch the ball when it rolls behind the posts, because if 
the other side touch it they have a try at goal. Then we fel- 
lows in quarters,® we play just about in front of goal here, and 
have to turn the ball and kick it back before the big fellows on 
5 the other side can follow it up. And in front of us all the big 
fellows play, and that’s where the scrummages are mostly.” 

Tom’s respect increased as he struggled to make out his 
friend’s technicalities, and the other set to w’ork to explain the 
mysteries of “ off your side,” “drop-kicks,” “punts,” “ places,” 
lo and the other intricacies of the great science of football. 

“ But how do you keep the ball between the goals?” said he; 
“I can’t see why it mightn’t go right down to the chapel.” 

“Why, that’s out of play,” answered East. “You see this 
gravel walk running down all along this side of the playing- 
15 ground, and the line of elms opposite on the other? Well, 
they’re the bounds. As soon as the ball gets past them, it’s 
in touch, and out of play. And then whoever first touches it 
has to knock it straight out amongst the players-up, who 
make two lines with a space between them, every fellow going 
20 on his own side. Ain’t there just fine scrummages then ! and 
the three trees® you see there which come out into the play, 
that’s a tremendous place when the ball hangs there, for you 
get thrown against the trees, and that’s worse than any hack.” 

Tom wondered within himself as they strolled back again 
25 towards the fives’ court, whether the matches were really such 
break-neck affairs as East represented, and whether, if they 
were, he should ever get to like them and play-up well. 

He hadn’t long to wonder, however, for next minute East 
cried out, “ Hurra ! here’s the punt-about, — come along and 
30 try your hand at a kick.” The punt-about is the practice ball, 
which is just brought out and kicked about anyhow from one 
boy to another before calling-over and dinner, and at other 
odd times. They joined the boys who had brought it out, all 
small Schoolhouse fellows, friends of East; and Tom had the 
35 pleasure of trying his skill, and performed very creditably, 
after first driving his foot three inches into the ground, and 
then nearly kicking his leg into the air, in vigorous efforts to 
accomplish a drop-kick after the manner of East. 

Presently more boys and bigger came out, and boys from 
40 other houses on their way to calling-over, and more balls were 
sent for. The crowd thickened as three o’clock approached; 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


69 


and when the hour struck, one hundred and fifty boys were 
hard at work. Then the balls were held, the master of the 
week came down in cap and gown to calling-over, and the whole 
school of three hundred ° boys swept into the big school to 
answer to their names. 5 

“ I may come in, mayn’t I ? ” said Tom, catching East by the 
arm and longing to feel one of them. 

‘‘Yes, come along, nobody’ll say anything. You won’t be 
so eager to get into calling-over after a month,” replied his 
friend; and they marched into the big school® together, and lo 
up to the further end where that illustrious form, the lower 
fourth, which had the honour of East’s patronage for the time 
being, stood. 

The master mounted into the high desk by the door, and one 
of the pr®postors° of the week stood by him on the steps, the 15 
other three marching up and down the middle of the school 
with their canes, calling out “ Silence, silence ! ” The sixth 
form stood close by the door on the left, some thirty in number, 
mostly great big grown men, as Tom thought, surveying them 
from a distance with awe; the fifth form behind them, twice 20 
their number, and not quite so big. These on the left; and 
on the right the lower fifth, shell,® and all the junior forms in 
order: while up the middle marched the three prjepostors. 

Then the praepostor who stands by the master calls out the 
names, beginning with the sixth form; and as he calls, each 25 
boy answers ‘'here” to his name, and walks out. Some of the 
sixth stop at the door to turn the whole string of boys into the 
close; it is a great match-day, and every boy in the school, 
will-he, nill-he, must be there. The rest of the sixth go for- 
wards into the close, to see that no one escapes by any of the 30 
side gates. 

To-day, however, being the Schoolhouse match,® none of 
the Schoolhouse praepostors stay by the door to watch for 
truants of their side; there is carte blanche to the Schoolhouse 
fags to go where they like : “ They trust to our honour,” as East 35 
proudly informs Tom; “they know very well that no School- 
house boy would cut the match. If he did, we’d very soon cut 
him, I can tell you.” 

The master of the week being short-sighted, and the prae- 
postors of the week small and not well up to their work, the 4° 
lower schoolboys employ the ten minutes which elapse before 


70 


2 01 / BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


their names are called in pelting one another vigorously with 
acorns, which fly about in all directions. The small prie- 
postors dash in every now and then, and generally chastise 
some quiet, timid boy who is equally afraid of acorns and 
5 canes, while the principal performers get dexterously out of 
the way; and so calling-over rolls on somehow, much like the 
big world, punishments lighting on wrong shoulders, and mat- 
ters going generally in a queer, cross-grained way, but the end 
coming somehow, which is after all the great point. And now 
lo the master of the week has finished, and locked up the big 
school; and the praspostors of the week come out, sweeping 
the last remnant of the school fags — who had been loafing 
about the corners by the fives’ court, in hopes of a chance of 
bolting — before them into the close. 

15 ''Hold the punt-about!” "To the goals!” are the cries, 
and all stray balls are impounded by the authorities; and the 
whole mass of boys moves up towards the two goals, dividing 
as they go into three bodies. That little band on the left, 
consisting of from fifteen to twenty boys, Tom amongst them, 
20 who are making for the goal under the Schoolhouse wall, are 
the Schoolhouse boys who are not to play-up, and have to stay 
in goal. The larger body moving to the island goal, are the 
School boys in a like predicament. The great mass in the 
middle are the players-up, both sides mingled together; they 
25 are hanging their jackets, and all who mean real work, their 
hats, waistcoats, neck-handkerchiefs, and braces, on the rail- 
ings round the small trees; and there they go by twos and 
threes up to their respective grounds. There is none of the 
colour and tastiness of get-up, you will perceive, which lends 
30 such a life to the present game at Rugby, making the dullest 
and worst-fought match a pretty sight. Now each house has 
its own uniform of cap and jersey, of some lively colour: but 
at the time we are speaking of, plush caps have not yet come 
in, or uniforms of any sort, except the Schoolhouse white 
35 trousers, which are abominably cold to-day: let us get to 
work, bare-headed, and girded with our plain leather straps — • 
but we mean business, gentlemen. 

And now that the two sides have fairly sundered, and each 
occupies its own ground, and we get a^ good look at them, 
40 what absurdity is this? You don’t mean to say that those 
fifty or sixty boys in white trousers, many of them quite small. 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


71 


are going to play that huge mass opposite? Indeed I do, 
gentlemen ; they’re going to try at any rate, and won’t make 
such a bad fight of it either, mark my word; for hasn’t old 
Brooke won the toss, with his lucky halfpenny, and got choice 
of goals and kick-off? The new ball you may see lie there 5 
quite by itself, in the middle, pointing towards the School or 
island goal; in another minute it will be well on its way there. 
Use that minute in remarking how the Schoolhouse side is 
drilled. You will see in the first place, that the sixth-form boy, 
who has the charge of goal, has spread his force (the goal- 10 
keepers) so as to occupy the whole space behind the goal-posts, 
at distances of about five yards apart; a safe and well-kept 
goal is the foundation of all good play. Old Brooke is talking 
to the captain of quarters; and now he moves away. See 
how that youngster spreads his men (the light brigade) care- 15 
fully over the ground, halfway between their own goal and the 
body of their own players-up (the heavy brigade). These 
again play in several bodies; there is young Brooke and the 
bulldogs — mark them well — they are the “ fighting brigade,” 
the ‘‘die-hards,” larking about at leap-frog to keep them- 20 
selves warm, and playing tricks on one another. And on each 
side of old Brooke, who is now standing in the middle of the 
ground and just going to kick-off, you see a separate wing of 
players-up, each with a boy of acknowledged prowess to look 
to — here Warner, and there Hedge; but over all is old Brooke, 25 
absolute as he of Russia, but wisely and bravely ruling over 
willing and worshipping subjects, a true football king. His 
face is earnest and careful as he glances a last time over his 
array, but full of pluck and hope, the sort of look I hope to see 
in my general when 1 go out to fight. 30 

The School side is not organized in the same way. The 
goal-keepers are all in lumps, any-how and no-how; you can’t 
distinguish between the players-up and the boys in quarters, 
and there is divided leadership ; but with such odds in strength 
and weight it must take more than that to hinder them from 35 
winning; and so their leaders seem to think, for they let the 
players-up manage themselves. 

But now look, there is a slight move forward of the School- 
house wings; a shout of “Are you ready?” and loud affirma- 
tive reply. Old Brooke takes half-a-dozen quick steps, and 40 
away goes the ball spinning towards the School goal, — sev- 


72 


TOM brown's school DAYS 


enty yards before it touches ground, and at no point above 
twelve or fifteen feet high, a model kick-off; and the School- 
house cheer and rush on ; the ball is returned, and they meet it 
and drive it back amongst the masses of the School already in 
5 motion. Then the two sides close, and you can see nothing 
for minutes but a swaying crowd of boys, at one point vio- 
lently agitated. That is where the ball is, and there are the 
keen players to be met, and the glory and the hard knocks to 
be got: you hear the dull thud thud of the ball, and the shouts 
loof, ‘'Off your side,” “Down with him,” “Put him over,” 
“ Bravo. ” This is what we call a scrummage, gentlemen, and 
the first scrummage in a Schoolhouse match was no joke in the 
consulship of Plancus.® 

But see ! it has broken ; the ball is driven out on the School- 
15 house side, and a rush of the School carries it past the School- 
house players-up. “ Look out in quarters,” Brooke’s and 
twenty other voices ring out; no need to call though; the 
Schoolhouse captain of quarters has caught it on the bound, 
dodges the foremost School boys, who are heading the rush, 
20 and sends it back with a good drop-kick well into the enemy’s 
country. And then follows rush upon rush, and scrummage 
upon scrummage, the ball now driven through into the School- 
house quarters, arid now into the School goal; for the School- 
house have not lost the advantage which the kick-off and a 
25 slight wind gave them at the outset, and are slightly “pen- 
ning” their adversaries. You say, you don’t see much in it 
all; nothing but a struggling mass of boys, and a leather ball 
which seems to excite them all to great fury, as a red rag does 
a bull. My dear sir, a battle would look much the same to you, 
30 except that the boys would be men, and the balls iron; but a 
battle would be worth your looking at for all that, and so is a 
football match. You can’t be expected to appreciate the 
delicate strokes of play, the turns by which a game is lost and 
won, — it takes an old player to do that, but the broad philoso- 
3S phy of football you can understand if you will. Come along 
with me a little nearer, and let us consider it together. 

The ball has just fallen again where the two sides are thickest, 
and they close rapidly around it in a scrummage; it must be 
driven through now by force or skill, till it flies out on one side 
40 or the other. Look how differently the boys face it ! Here 
come two of the bulldogs, bursting through the outsiders; in 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


73 


they go, straight to the heart of the scrummage, bent on driv- 
ing that ball out on the opposite side. That is what they mean 
to do. My sons, my sons! you are too hot; you have gone 
past the ball, and must struggle now right through the scrum- 
mage, and get round and back again to your own side, before 5 
you can be of any further use. Here comes young Brooke; he 
goes in as straight as you, but keeps his head, and backs and 
bends, holding himself still behind the ball, and driving it 
furiously when he gets the chance. Take a leaf out of his book, 
you young chargers. Here come Speedicut, and Flashman the 10 
Schoolhouse bully, with shouts and great action. Won’t you 
two come up to young Brooke, after locking-up, by the School- 
house fire, with “ Old fellow, wasn’t that just a splendid scrum- 
mage by the three trees !” But he knows you, and so do we. 
You don’t really want to drive that ball through that scrum- 15 
mage, chancing all hurt for the glory of the Schoolhouse — ■ 
but to make us think that’s what you want — a vastly different 
thing; and fellows of your kidney will never go through more 
than the skirts of a scrummage, where it’s all push and no 
kicking. We respect boys who keep out of it, and don’t sham 20 
going in ; but you — we had rather not say what we think of 
you. 

Then the boys who are bending and watching on the outside, 
mark them — they are most useful players, the dodgers ; who 
seize on the ball the moment it rolls out from amongst the 25 
chargers, and away with it across to the opposite goal: they 
seldom go into the scrummage, but must have more coolness 
than the chargers: as endless as are boys’ characters, so are 
their ways of facing or not facing a scrummage at football. 

Three-quarters of an hour are gone ; first winds are failing, 30 
and weight and numbers beginning to tell. Yard by yard the 
Schoolhouse have been driven back, contesting every inch of 
ground. The bulldogs are the colour of mother earth from 
shoulder to ankle, except young Brooke, who has a marvellous 
knack of keeping his legs. The Schoolhouse are being penned 35 
in their turn, and now the ball is behind their goal, under the 
Doctor’s wall. The Doctor and some of his family are there 
looking on, and seem as anxious as any boy for the success of 
the Schoolhouse. We get a minute’s breathing time before 
old Brooke kicks out, and he gives the word to play strongly 40 
for touch, by the three trees. Away goes the ball, and the 


74 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


bulldogs after it, and in another minute there is shout of “In 
touch!’’ “Our ball!” Now’s your time, old Brooke, while 
your men are still fresh. He stands with the ball in his hand, 
while the two sides form in deep lines opposite one another: 

5 he must strike it straight out between them. The lines are 
thickest close to him, but young Brooke and two or three of 
his men are shifting up further, where the opposite line is weak. 
Old Brooke strikes it out straight and strong, and it falls oppo- 
site his brother. Hurra ! that rush has taken it right through 
lo the School line, and away past the three trees, far into their 
quarters, and young Brooke and the bulldogs are close upon it. 
The School leaders rush back shouting “Lookout in goal,” and 
strain every nerve to catch him, but they are after the fleetest 
foot in Rugby. There they go straight for the School goal- 
15 posts, quarters scattering before them. One after another 
the bulldogs go down, but young Brooke holds on. “ He is 
down.” No ! a long stagger, but the danger is past; that was 
the shock of Crew, the most dangerous of dodgers. And now 
he is close to the School goal, the ball not three yards before 
20 him. There is a hurried rush of the School fags to the spot, 
but no one throws himself on the ball, the only chance, and 
young Brooke has touched it right under the School goal-posts. 

The School leaders come up furious, and administer toco° 
to the wretched fags nearest at hand ; they may well be angry, 
25 for it is all Lombard-street to a china orange that the School- 
house kick a goal with the ball touched in such a good place. 
Old Brooke of course will kick it out, but Avho shall catch and 
place it? Call Crab Jones. Here he comes, sauntering along 
with a straw in his mouth, the queerest, coolest fish in Rugby : 
30 if he were tumbled into the moon this minute, he would just 
pick himself up without taking his hands out of his pockets or 
turning a hair. But it is a moment when the boldest charger’s 
heart beats quick. Old Brooke stands with the ball under his 
arm motioning the School back; he will not kick-out till they 
35 are all in goal, behind the posts; they are all edging forwards, 
inch by inch, to get nearer for the rush at Crab Jones, who 
stands there in front of old Brooke to catch the ball. If they 
can reach and destroy him before he catches, the danger is 
over; and with one and the same rush they will carry it right 
40 away to the Schoolhouse goal. Fond hope ! it is kicked out 
and caught beautifully. Crab strikes his heel into the ground, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


75 


to mark the spot where the ball was caught, beyond which the 
School line may not advance; but there they stand, five deep, 
ready to rush the moment the ball touches the ground. Take 
plenty of room ! don’t give the rush a chance of reaching you ! 
place it true and steady ! Trust Crab Jones — he has made a 5 
small hole with his heel for the ball to lie on, by which he is 
resting on one knee, with his eye on old Brooke. ‘‘Now!” 
Crab places the ball at the word, old Brooke kicks, and it rises 
slowly and truly as the School rush forward. 

Then a moment’s pause, while both sides look up at the lo 
spinning ball. There it flies, straight between the two posts, some 
five feet above the cross-bar, an unquestioned goal; and a 
shout of real genuine joy rings out from the Schoolhouse players- 
up, and a faint echo of it comes over the close from the goal- 
keepers under the Doctor’s wall. A goal in the first hour — 15 
such a thing hasn’t been done in the Schoolhouse match these 
five years. 

“Over!” is the cry: the two sides change goals, and the 
Schoolhouse goal-keepers come threading their way across 
through the masses of the School ; the most openly triumphant 20 
of them, amongst whom is Tom, a Schoolhouse boy of two 
hours’ standing, getting their ears boxed in the transit. Tom 
indeed is excited beyond measure, and it is all the sixth-form 
boy, kindest and safest of goal-keepers, has been able to do, to 
keep him from rushing out whenever the ball has been near 25 
their goal. So he holds him by his side, and instructs him in 
the science of touching. 

At this moment Griffith, the itinerant vendor of oranges from 
Hill Morton, enters the close with his heavy baskets; there is 
a rush of small boys upon the little pale-faced man, the two 30 
sides mingling together, subdued by the great Goddess Thirst, 
like the English and French by the streams in the Pyrenees. 
The leaders are past oranges and apples, but some of them visit 
their coats, and apply innocent-looking ginger-beer bottles to 
their mouths. It is no ginger-beer, though, I fear, and will do 35 
you no good. One short mad rush, and then a stitch in the 
side, and no more honest play; that’s what comes of those 
bottles. 

But now Griffith’s baskets are empty, the ball is placed again 
midway, and the School are going to kick-off. Their leaders 4 ° 
have sent their lumber into goal, and rated the rest soundly, 


76 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


and one hundred and twenty picked players-up are there, bent 
on retrieving the game. They are to keep the ball in front of 
the Schoolhouse goal, and then to drive it in by sheer strength 
and weight. They mean heavy play and no mistake, and so 
5 old Brooke sees ; and places Crab Jones in quarters just before 
the goal, with four or five picked players, who are to keep the 
ball away to the sides, where a try at goal, if obtained, will be 
less dangerous than in front. He himself, and Warner and 
Hedge, who have saved themselves till now, will lead the 
lo charges. 

‘‘Are you ready?” “Yes.” And away comes the ball 
kicked high in the air, to give the School time to rush on and 
catch it as it falls. And here they are amongst us. Meet 
them like Englishmen, you Schoolhouse boys, and charge 
^5 them home. Now is the time to show what mettle is in you — 
and there shall be a warm seat by the hall fire, and honour, and 
lots of bottled beer to-night, for him who does his duty in the 
next half hour. And they are well met. Again and again the 
cloud of their players-up gathers before our goal, and comes 
20 threatening on, and Warner or Hedge, with young Brooke and 
the relics of the bulldogs, break through and carry the ball 
back; and old Brooke ranges the field like Job's war-horse; 
the thickest scrummage parts asunder before his rush, like the 
waves before a clipper’s bows; his cheery voice rings over the 
25 field, and his eye is everywhere. And if these miss the ball, 
and it rolls dangerously in front of our goal, Crab Jones and his 
men have seized it and sent it away towards the sides with the 
unerring drop-kick. This is worth living for; the whole sum 
of schoolboy existence gathered up into one straining, strug- 
30 gling half hour, a half hour worth a year of common life. 

The quarter to five has struck, and the play slackens for a 
minute before goal ; but there is Crew, the artful dodger, driv- 
ing the ball in behind our goal, on the island side, where our 
quarters are weakest. Is there no one to meet him? Yes 
35 look at little East ! the ball is just at equal distances between 
the two, and they rush together, the young man of seventeen 
and the boy of twelve, and kick it at the same moment. Crew 
passes on without a stagger; East is hurled forward by the 
shock, and plunges on his shoulder, as if he would bury himself 
40 n the ground ; but the ball rises straight into the air, and falls 
behind Crew's back, while the “bravos” of the Schoolhouse 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


77 


attest the pluckiest charge of all that hard-fought day. War- 
ner picks East up lame and half stunned, and he hobbles back 
into goal, conscious of having played the man. 

And now the. last minutes are come, and the School gather 
for their last rush, every boy of the hundred and twenty who 5 
has a run left in him. Reckless of the defence of their own 
goal, on they come across the level big side-ground, the ball 
well down amongst them, straight for our goal, like the column 
of the Old Guard up the slope at Waterloo. All former charges 
have been child’s play to this. Warner and Hedge have met lo 
them, but still on they come. The bulldogs rush in for the 
last time; they are hurled over or carried back, striving hand, 
foot, and eyelids. Old Brooke comes sweeping round the skirts 
of the play, and turning short round picks out the very heart 
of the scrummage, and plunges in. It wavers for a moment — 15 
he has the ball ! No, it has passed him, and his voice rings out 
clear over the advancing tide, “ Look out in goal.” Crab Jones 
catches it for a moment; but before he can kick, the rush is 
upon him and passes over him ; and he picks himself up behind 
them with his straw in his mouth, a little dirtier, but as cool as 20 
ever. 

The ball rolls slowly in behind the Schoolhouse goal not three 
yards in front of a dozen of the biggest School players-up. 

There stand the Schoolhouse praepostor, safest of goal- 
keepers, and Tom Brown by his side, who has learned his 25 
trade by this time. Now is your time, Tom. The blood of 
all the Browns is up, and the two rush in together, and throw 
themselves on the ball, under the very feet of the advancing 
column; the praepostor on his hands and knees arching his 
back, and Tom all along on his face. Over them topple the 30 
leaders of the rush, shooting over the back of the praepostor, 
but falling flat on Tom, and knocking all the wind out of his 
small carcass. '‘Our ball,” says the praepostor, rir-ing with his 
prize; "but get up there, there’s a little fellow under you.” 
They are hauled and rolled off him, and Tom is discovered a 35 
motionless body. 

Old Brooke picks him up. "Stand back, give him air,” he 
says ; and then feeling his limbs, adds, "No bones broken. 
How do you feel, young un?” 

" Hah-hah,” gasps Tom as his wind comes back, " pretty well, 4q 
thank you — all right.” 


78 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


“Who is he?” says Brooke. “Oh, it’s Brown, he’s a new 
boy; I know him,” says East, coming up. 

“Well, he is a plucky youngster, and will make a player,” 
says Brooke. 

5 And five o’clock strikes. “No side” is called, and the first 
day of the Schoolhouse match is over. 


CHAPTER VI 


AFTER THE MATCH 

— Some food we had.” — Shakespere. 
ris -wbros advs° — Theocr. Id. 

As the boys scattered away from the ground, and East 
leaning on Tom’s arm, and limping along, was beginning to 
consider what luxury they should go and buy for tea to cele- 
brate that glorious victory, the two Brookes came striding by. 
Old Brooke caught sight of East, and stopped; put his hand 5 
kindly on his shoulder and said, “Bravo, youngster, you 
played famously; not much the matter, I hope?” 

“No, nothing at all,” said East, “only a little twist from 
that charge.” 

“Well, mind and get all right for next Saturday;” and the 10 
leader passed on, leaving East better for those few words than 
all the opodeldoc® in England would have made him, and Tom 
ready to give one of his ears for as much notice. Ah ! light 
w’ords of those whom we love and honour, what a power ye are, 
and how carelessly wielded by those who can use you ! Surely 15 
for these things also God will ask an account. 

“Tea’s directly after locking;-up, you see,” said East, hob- 
bling along as fast as he could, “so you 'come along down to 
Sally Harrowell’s; that’s our Schoolhouse tuck-shop — she 
bakes such stunning murphies, we’ll have a penn’orth each for 20 
tea; come along, or they’ll all be gone.” 

Tom’s new purse and money burnt in his pocket; he won- 
dered, as they toddled through the quadrangle and along the 
street, whether East would be insulted if he suggested further 
extravagance, as he had not sufficient faith in a pennyworth of 25 
potatoes. At last he blurted out, — 

“I say. East, can’t we get something else besides potatoes? 
I’ve got lots of money, you know.” 

79 


80 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“ Bless us, yes, I forgot,'’ said East, “ you’ve only just come. 
You see all my tin ’s been gone this twejve weeks, it hardly 
ever lasts beyond the first fortnight ; and our allowances were 
all stopped this morning for broken windows, so I haven’t got 
5 a penny. I’ve got a tick at Sally’s, of course ; but then I hate 
running it high, you see, towards the end of the half, ’cause 
one has to shell out for it all directly one comes back, and that’s 
a bore.” 

Tom didn’t understand much of this talk, but seized on the 
lofact that East had no money and was denying himself some 
little pet luxury in consequence. ‘‘Well, what shall I buy?” 
said he; “I’m uncommon hungry.” 

“I say,” said East, stopping to look at him and rest his leg, 
“you’re a trump. Brown. I’ll do the same by you next half. 
15 Let’s have a pound of sausages then; that’s the best grub for 
tea I know of.” 

“Very well,” said Tom, as pleased as possible; “where do 
they sell them ? ” 

“Oh, over here, just opposite;” and they crossed the street 
20 and walked into the cleanest little front room of a small house, 
half parlour, half shop, and bought a pound of most particular 
sausages; East talking pleasantly to Mrs. Porter while she put 
them in paper, and Tom doing the paying part. 

From Porter’s they adjourned to Sally Harrowell’s, where 
25 they found a lot of Schoolhouse boys waiting for the roast 
potatoes, and relating their own exploits in the day’s match 
at the top of their voices. The street opened at once into 
Sally’s kitchen, a low brick-floored room, with large recess for 
fire, and chimney-corner seats. Poor little Sally, the most 
30 good-natured and much-enduring of womankind, was bustling 
about, with a napkin in her h^nd, from her own oven to those 
of the neighbours’ cottages up the yard at the back of the house. 
Stumps, her husband, a short easy-going shoemaker, with a 
beery humorous eye and ponderous calves, who. lived mostly 
35 on his wife’s earnings, stood in a corner of the room, exchang- 
ing shots of the roughest description of repartee with every 
boy in turn. “Stumps, you lout, you’ve had too much beer 
again to-day.” “ ’Twasn’t of your paying for, then.” — 
“ Stumps’s calves are running down into his ankles, they want 
40 to get to grass.” “Better be doing that, than gone altogether 
like yours,” etc. Very poor stuff it was, but it served to make 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


81 


time pass; and every now and then Sally arrived in the middle 
with a smoking tin of potatoes, which were cleared off in a few 
seconds, each boy as he seized his lot running off to the house 
with ‘'Put me down two-penn’orth, Sally;” “Put down 
three-penn’orth between me and Davis,” etc. How she ever 5 
kept the accounts so straight as she did, in her head and on her 
slate, was a perfect wonder. 

East and Tom got served at last, and started back for the 
Schoolhouse, just as the locking-up bell began to ring; East 
on the way recounting the life and adventures of Stumps, who 10 
was a character. Amongst his other small avocations, he was 
the hind carrier of a sedan-chair, the last of its race, in which 
the Rugby ladies still went out to tea, and in which, when he 
was fairly harnessed and carrying a load, it was the delight of 
small and mischievous boys to follow him and whip his calves. 15 
This was too much for the temper even of Stumps, and he 
would pursue his tormentors in a vindictive and apoplectic 
manner when released, but was easily pacified by twopence to 
buy beer with. 

The lower schoolboys of the Schoolhouse, some fifteen in 20 
number, had tea in the lower-fifth school, and were presided 
over by the old verger or head-porter. Each boy had a quarter 
of a loaf of bread and pat of butter, and as much tea as he 
pleased; and there was scarcely one who didn’t add to this 
some further luxury, such as baked potatoes, a herring, sprats, 25 
or something of the sort; but few, at this period of the half 
year, could live up to a pound of Porter’s sausages, and East 
was in great magnificence upon the strength of theirs. He had 
produced a toasting-fork from his study, and set Tom to toast 
the sausages, while he mounted guard over their butter and 30 
potatoes; “ ’cause,” as he explained, “you’re a new boy, and 
they’ll play you some trick and get our butter, but you can 
toast just as well as I.” So Tom, in the midst of three or four 
more urchins similarly employed, toasted his face and the 
sausages at the same time before the huge fire, till the latter 35 
cracked; when East from his watch-tower shouted that they 
were done, and then the feast proceeded, and the festive cups 
of tea were filled and emptied, and Tom imparted of the sau- 
sages in small bits to many neighbours, and thought he had 
. never tasted such good potatoes or seen such jolly boys. They 40 
on their parts waived all ceremony, and pegged away at the 

G 


82 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


sausages and potatoes, and remembering Tom’s performance 
in goal, voted East’s new crony a brick. After tea, and while 
the things were being cleared away, they gathered round the 
fire, and the talk on the match still went on; and those who 
5 had them to show pulled up their trousers and showed the 
hacks they had received in the good cause. 

They were soon however all turned out of the school, and 
East conducted Tom up to his bedroom, that he might get on 
clean things and wash himself before singing, 
lo ''What’s singing?” said Tom, taking his head out of his 
basin, where he had been plunging it in cold water. 

"Well, you are jolly green,” answered his friend from a 
' neighbouring basin. "Why, the last six Saturdays of every 
half we sing of course: and this is the first of them. No first 
15 lesson to do, you know, and lie in bed to-morrow morning.” 

"But who sings?” 

"Why everybody, of course; you’ll see soon enough. We 
begin directly after supper, and sing till bedtime. It ain’t 
such good fun now though as in the summer half, ’cause then 
20 we sing in the little fives’ court, ° under the library, you know. 
We take our tables, and the big boys sit round and drink beer ; 
double allowance on Saturday nights; and we cut about the 
quadrangle between the songs, and it looks like a lot of robbers 
in a cave. And the louts come and pound at the great gates, 
25 and we pound back again, and shout at them. But this half 
we only sing in the hall. Come along down to my study.” 

Their principal employment in the study was to clear out 
East’s table, removing the drawers and ornaments and table- 
cloth ; for he lived in the bottom passage, and his table was in 
30 requisition for the singing. 

Supper came in due course at seven o’clock, consisting of 
bread and cheese and beer, which was all saved for the singing ; 
and directly afterwards the fags went to work to prepare the 
hall. The Schoolhouse hall, as has been said, is a great long 
35 high room, with two large fires on one side, and two large iron- 
bound tables, one running down the middle, and the other 
along the wall opposite the fireplaces. Around the upper fire 
the fags placed the tables in the form of a horseshoe, and upon 
them the jugs with the Saturday night’s allowance of beer. 
40 Then the big boys used to drop in and take their seats, bring- 
ing with them bottled beer and song books ; for although they 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


83 


all knew the songs by heart, it was the thing to have an old 
manuscript book descended from some departed hero, in which 
they were all carefully written out. 

The sixth-form boys had not yet appeared ; so, to fill up the 
gap, an interesting and time-honoured ceremony was gone 5 
through. Each new boy was placed on the table in turn, and 
made to sing a solo, ° under the penalty of drinking a large mug 
of salt and water if he resisted or broke down. However, the 
new boys all sing like nightingales to-night, and the salt water 
is not in requisition; Tom, as his part, performing the old 10 
west-country song of ‘‘The Leather Bottel” with considerable 
applause. And at the half-hour down come the sixth and fifth 
form boys, and take their places at the tables, which are filled 
up by the next biggest boys, the rest, for whom there is no 
room at the table, standing round outside. 15 

The glasses and mugs are filled, and then the fugleman® 
strikes up the old sea song — 

“A wet sheet and a flowing sea. 

And a wind that follows fast," etc. 

which is the invariable first song in the Schoolhouse, and all 20 
the seventy voices Join in, not mindful of harmony, but bent 
on noise, which they attain decidedly, but the general effect 
isn’t bad. And then follow “The British Grenadiers,” “Billy 
Taylor,” “The Siege of Seringapatam,” “Three Jolly Post- 
boys,” and other vociferous songs in rapid succession, includ-2S 
ing “The Chesapeake and Shannon,” a song lately introduced 
in honour of old Brooke ; and when they come to the words — 

“Brave Broke he waved his sword, crying, Now, my lads, aboard. 

And weJl stop their playing Yankee-doodle-dandy oh ! ” 

you expect the roof to come down. The sixth and fifth know 3° 
that “brave Broke” of the Shannon was no sort of relation to 
our old Brooke. The fourth form are uncertain in their belief, 
but for the most part hold that old Brooke was a midshipman 
then on board his uncle’s ship. And the lower school never 
doubt for a moment that it was our old Brooke who led the 35 
boarders, in what capacity they care not a straw. During 
the pauses the bottled-beer corks fly rapidly, and the talk is 
fast and merry, and the big boys, at least all of them who 
have a fellow-feeling for dry throats, hand their mugs over 


84 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


their shoulders to be emptied by the small ones who stand round 
behind. 

Then Warner, the head of the house, gets up and Avants to 
speak, but he can’t, for every boy knows what’s coming; and 
5 the big boys who sit at the tables pound them and cheer ; and 
the small boys who stand behind pound one another, and cheer, 
and rush about the hall cheering. Then silence being made, 
Warner reminds them of the old Schoolhouse custom of drink- 
ing the healths, on the first night of singing, of those who are 
lo going to leave at the end of the half. He sees that they knoAv 
what he is going to say already — (loud cheers) — and so 
won’t keep them, but only ask them to treat the toast as it 
deserves. It is the head of the eleven, the head of Big-side 
football, their leader on this glorious day — Pater Brooke !” 

15 And away goes the pounding and cheering again, becoming 
deafening when old Brooke gets on his legs : till, a table having 
broken down, and a gallon or so of beer been upset, and all 
throats getting dry, silence ensues, and the hero speaks, lean- 
ing his hands on the table, and bending a little forwards. No 
20 action, no tricks of oratory; plain, strong, and straight, like 
his play. 

‘‘ Gentlemen of the Schoolhouse ! I am very proud of the 
way in which you have received my name, and I wish I could 
say all I should like in return. But I know I shan’t. How- 
25 ever. I’ll do the best I can to sa.y what seems to me ought to 
be said by a fellow who’s just going to leave, and who has spent 
a good slice of his life here. Eight years it is, and eight such 
years as I can never hope to have again. So now I hope you’ll 
all listen to me — (loud cheers of ‘that we Avill’) — for I’m 
30 going to talk seriously. You’re bound to listen to me, for 
what’s the use of calling me ‘pater,’ and all that, if you don’t 
mind what I say? And I’m going to talk seriously, because I 
feel so. It’s a jolly time, too, getting to the end of the half, 
and a goal kicked by us first day — (tremendous applause) — 
35 after one of the hardest and fiercest day’s play I can remember 
in eight years — (frantic shoutings). The School played 
splendidly, too, I Avill say, and kept it up to the last. That 
last charge of theirs would have carried away a house. I 
never thought to see anything again of old Crab there, except 
40 little pieces, when I saw him tumbled over by it — (laughter 
and shouting, and great slapping on the back of Jones by the 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


85 


boys nearest him). Well, but we beat ’em — (cheers). Ay, 
but why did we beat ’em ? Answer me that — (shouts of ‘ your 
play ’). Nonsense ! ’Twasn’t the wind and kick-off either — 
that wouldn’t do it. ’Twasn’t because we’ve half a dozen of 
the best players in the School, as we have. I wouldn’t change 5 
Warner and Hedge, and Crab, and the young un, for any six 
on their side — (violent cheers). But half a dozen fellows 
can’t keep it up for two hours against two hundred. Why is 
it, then? I’ll tell you what I think. It’s because we’ve more 
reliance on one another, more of a house feeling, more fellow- 10 
ship than the School can have. Each of us knows and can 
depend on his next-hand man better — that’s why we beat 
’em to-day. We’ve union, they’ve division — there’s the 
secret — (cheers). But how’s this to be kept up? How’s it 
to be improved? That’s the question. For I take it we’re 15 
all in earnest about beating the School, whatever else we care 
about. I know I’d sooner win two Schoolhouse matches run- 
ning than get the Balliol scholarship any day — (frantic cheers). 

“ Now, I’m as proud of the house as any one. I believe it’s 
the best house in the school, out-and-out — (cheers). But it’s 20 
a long w^ay from what I want to see it. First, there’s a deal of 
bullying® going on. I know it well. I don’t pry about and 
interfere; that onlj^' makes it more underhand, and encourages 
the small boys to come to us with their fingers in their eyes 
telling tales, and so we should be worse off than ever. It’s 25 
very little kindness for the sixth to meddle generally — you 
youngsters, mind that. You’ll be all the better football 
players for learning to stand it, and to take your own parts, 
and fight it through. But depend on it, there’s nothing breaks 
up a house like bullying. Bullies are cowards, and one coward 30 
makes many; so good-by to the Schoolhouse match if bully- 
ing gets ahead here. (Loud applause from the small boys, who 
look meaningly at Flashman and other boys at the tables.) 
Then there’s fuddling about in the public-house, and drinking 
bad spirits, and punch, and such rot-gut stuff. That won’t 35 
make good drop-kicks or chargers of you, take my word for it. 
You get plenty of good beer here, and that’s enough for you : 
and drinking isn’t fine or manly, whatever some of you may 
think of it. 

One other thing I must have a word about. A lot of you 40 
think and sav, for I’ve heard you, ‘There’s this new Doctor 


86 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


hasn’t been here so long as some of us, and he’s changing all 
the old customs. Rugby, and the Schoolhouse especially, 
are going to the dogs. Stand up for the good old ways, and 
down with the Doctor !’ Now I’m as fond of old Rugby cus- 
5 toms and ways as any of you, and I’ve been here longer than 
any of you, and I’ll give you a word of advice in time, for I 
shouldn’t like to see any of you getting sacked. ‘Down with 
the Doctor’ ’s easier said than done. You’ll find him pretty 
tight on his perch, I take it, and an awkwardish customer to 
lo handle in that line. Besides now, what customs has he put 
down? There was the good old custom of taking the linch- 
pins out of the farmers’ and bagmen’s gigs at the fairs, and a 
cowardly blackguard custom it was. We all know what came 
of it, and no wonder the Doctor objected to it. But come now, 
15 any of you, name a custom that he has put down.” 

“The hounds,” calls out a fifth-form boy, clad in a green 
cutaway with brass buttons and cord trousers, the leader 
of the sporting interest, and reputed a great rider and keen 
hand generally. 

20 “Well, we had six or seven mangey harriers and beagles® 
belonging to the house. I’ll allow, and had had them for years, 
and that the Doctor put them down. But what good ever 
came of them? Only rows with all the keepers for ten miles 
round; and Big-side hare and hounds is better fun ten times 
25 over. What else?” 

No answer. 

“Well, I won’t go on. Think it over for yourselves: you’L 
find, I believe, that he don’t meddle with any one that’s worth 
keeping. And mind now, I say again, look out for squalls, 
30 if you will go your own way, and that way ain’t the Doctor’s, 
for it’ll lead to grief. You all know that I’m not the fellow 
to back a master through thick and thin. If I saw him stopping 
football,® or cricket, or bathing, or sparring, I’d be as ready 
as any fellow to stand up about it. But he don’t — he en- 
35 courages them; didn’t you see him out to-day for half an hour 
watching us? — (loud cheers for the Doctor) — and he’s a 
strong, true man, and a wise one too, and a public-school man 
too — (cheers) — and so let’s stick to him, and talk no more 
rot, and drink his health as the head of the house, — (loud 
40 cheers). And now I’ve done blowing up, and very glad I am 
to have done. But it’s a solemn thing to be thinking of leav- 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


87 


ing a place which one has lived in and loved for eight years; 
and if one can say a word for the good of the old house at such 
a time, why, it should be said, whether bitter or sweet. If I 
hadn’t been proud of the house and you — ay, no one knows 
how proud — I shouldn’t be blowing you up. And now let’s 5 
get to singing. But before I sit down I must give you a toast 
to be drunk with three-times-three and all the honours. It’s 
a toast which I hope every one of us, wherever he may go here- 
after, will never fail to drink when he thinks of the brave bright 
days of his boyhood. It’s a toast which should bind us all lo 
together, and to those who’ve gone before and who’ll come 
after us here. It is the dear old Schoolhouse — the best 
house of the best school in England !” 

My dear boys, old and young, you who have belonged, or 
do belong, to other schools and other houses, don’t begin 1 5 
throwing my poor little book about the room, and abusing 
me and it, and vowing you’ll read no more when you get to 
this point. I allow you’ve provocation for it. But come 
now — would you, any of you, give a fig for a fellow who 
didn’t believe in, and stand up for, his own house and his own 20 
school? You know you wouldn’t. Then don’t object to 
my cracking up the old Schoolhouse, Rugby. Haven’t I a 
right to do it, when I’m taking all the trouble of writing this 
true history for all of your benefits? If you ain’t satisfied, 
go and write the history of your own houses in your own times, 25 
and say all you know for your own schools and houses, pro- 
vided it’s true, and I’ll read it without abusing you. 

The last few words hit the audience in their weakest place; 
they had been not altogether enthusiastic at several parts of 
old Brooke’s speech®! but 'Yhe best house of the best school 3° 
in England” was too much for them all, and carried even the 
sporting and drinking interests off their legs into rapturous 
applause, and (it is to be hoped) resolutions to lead a new life 
and remember old Brooke’s words : which however they didn’t 
altogether do, as will appear hereafter. 35 

But it required all old Brooke’s popularity to carry down 
parts of his speech; especially that relating to the Doctor. 
For there are no such bigoted holders by established forms 
and customs,® be they never so foolish or meaningless, as 
English schoolboys, at least as the schoolboys of our genera - 40 
tion. We magnified into heroes every boy who had left, and 


88 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL BAYS 


looked upon him with awe and reverence when he revisited 
the place a year or so afterwards, on his way to or from Oxford 
or Cambridge ; and happy was the boy who remembered him, 
and sure of an audience as he expounded what he used to do 
5 and say, though it were sad enough stuff to make angels, 
not to say head-masters, weep. 

We looked upon every trumpery little custom and habit 
which had obtained in the school as though it had been a law 
of the Medes and Persians, and regarded the infringement 
lo or variation of it as a sort of sacrilege. And the Doctor, than 
whom no man or boy had a stronger liking for old school cus- 
toms which were good and sensible, had, as has already been 
hinted, come into most decided collision with several which 
were neither the one nor. the other. And as old Brooke had 
15 said, when he came into collision with boys or customs, there 
was nothing for them but to give in or take themselves off; 
because what he said had to be done, and no mistake about it. 
And this was beginning to be pretty clearly understood; the 
boys felt that there was a strong man over them, who would 
20 have things his own way; and hadn’t yet learned that he was 
a wise and loving man also. His personal character and 
influence had not had time to make itself felt, except by a very 
few of the bigger boys with whom he came more directly in 
contact; and he was looked upon with great fear and dislike 
25 by the great majority even of his own house. For he had 
found school, and Schoolhouse, in a state of monstrous license 
and misrule, and was still employed in the necessary but un- 
popular work of setting up order with a strong hand.® 

However, as has been said, old Brooke triumphed, and the 
30 boys cheered him and then the Doctor. And then more songs 
came, and the healths of the other boys about to leave, who 
each made a speech, one flowery, another maudlin, a third 
prosy, and so on, which are not necessary to be here recorded. 
Half-past nine struck in the middle of the performance of 
35“Auld Lang Syne,” a most obstreperous proceeding; during 
which there was an immense amount of standing with one foot 
on the table, knocking mugs together and shaking hands, 
without which accompaniments it seems impossible for the 
youth of Britain to take part in that famous old song. The 
40 under-porter of the Schoolhouse entered during the perform- 
ance, bearing five or six long wooden candlesticks, with 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


89 


lighted dips in them, which he proceeded to stick into their 
holes in such part of the great tables as he could get at; and 
then stood outside the ring till the end of the song, when he 
was hailed with shouts. 

/‘Bill, you old muff, the half-hour hasn’t struck.” “Here, 5 
Bill, drink some cocktail.” “ Sing us a song, old boy.” “ Don’t 
you wish you may get the table?” Bill drank the proffered 
cocktail not unwillingly, and putting down the empty glass, 
remonstrated, “Now, gentlemen, there’s only ten minutes to 
prayers, and we must get the hall straight.” 10 

Shouts of “No, no !” and a violent effort to strike up “Billy 
Taylor” for the third time. Bill looked appealingly to old 
Brooke, who got up and stopped the noise. “Now then, 
lend a hand, you youngsters, and get the tables back, clear 
away the jugs and glasses. Bill’s right. Open the windows, 15 
Warner.” The boy addressed, who sat by the long ropes, 
proceeded to pull up the great windows, and let in a clear fresh 
rush of night air, which made the candles flicker and gutter 
and the fires roar. The circle broke up, each collaring his 
own jug, glass, and song book; Bill pounced on the big table, 20 
and began to rattle it away to its place outside the buttery 
door. The lower-passage boys carried off their small tables, 
aided by their friends; while above all, standing on the great 
hall-table, a knot of untiring sons of harmony made night 
doleful by a prolonged performance of “God save the King.” 25 
His Majesty King William IV. then reigned over us, a monarch 
deservedly popular amongst the boys addicted to melody, 
to whom he was chiefly known from the beginning of that 
excellent, if slightly vulgar, song in which they much de- 
lighted — 30 

“Come, neighbours all, both great and small. 

Perform your duties here. 

And loudly sing ‘live Billy our king,’ 

For bating the tax upon beer.” 

Others of the more learned in songs also celebrated his praises 35 
in a sort of ballad, which I take to have been written by some 
Irish loyalist. I have forgotten all but the chorus, which 
ran — 

“God save our good King William, be his name forever blest. 

He’s the father of all his people, and the guardian of all the rest.” 4 ° 


90 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL BAYS 


In troth we were loyal subjects in those days, in a rough way. 
I trust that our successors make as much of her present Majesty, 
and, having regard to the greater refinement of the times, 
have adopted or written other songs equally hearty, but more 
5 civilized, in her honour. 

Then the quarter to ten struck, and the prayer-bell rang. 
The sixth and fifth form boys ranged themselves in their school 
order along the wall, on either side of the great fires, the middle- 
fifth and upper-school boys round the long table in the middle 
loof the hall, and the lower-school boys round the upper part 
of the second long table, which ran down the side of the hall 
furthest from the fires. Here Tom found himself at the bottom 
of all, in a state of mind and body not at all fit for prayers, 
as he thought; 'and so tried hard to make himself serious, 
1 5 but couldn’t, for the life of him, do anything but repeat in 
his head the choruses of some of the songs, and stare at all 
the boys opposite, wondering at the brilliancy of their waist- 
coats, and speculating what sort of fellows they were. The 
steps of the head-porter are heard on the stairs, and a light 
20 gleams at the door. “Hush!” from the fifth-form boys who 
stand there, and then in strides the Doctor, cap on head, 
book in one hand, and gathering up his gown in the other. 
He walks up the middle, and tak^es his post by Warner, who 
begins calling over the names. The Doctor takes no notice 
25 of anything, but quietly turns over his book and finds the place, 
and then stands, cap in hand and finger in book, looking straight 
before his nose. He knows better than any one when to look, 
and when to see nothing; to-night is singing night, and there’s 
been lots of noise and no harm done ; nothing but beer drunk, 
30 and nobody the worse for it; though some of them do look 
hot and excited. So the Doctor sees nothing, but fascinates 
Tom in a horrible manner as he stands there, and reads out 
the Psalm, in that deep, ringing, searching voice of his. Prayers 
are over, and Tom still stares open-mouthed after the Doctor’s 
35 retiring figure, when he feels a pull at his sleeve, and turning 
round, sees East. 

“I say, were you ever tossed in a blanket?” 

“No,” said Tom; “why?” 

“’Cause there’ll be tossing to-night, most likely, before the 
40 sixth come up to bed. So if you funk, you just come along 
and hide, or else they’ll catch you and toss you.” 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


91 


“Were you ever tossed? Does it hurt?” inquired Tom. 

“Oh yes, bless you, a dozen times,” said East, as he hobbled 
along by Tom’s side. upstairs. “It don’t hurt unless you fall 
on the floor. But most fellows don’t like it.” 

They stopped at the fireplace in the top passage, where were 5 
a crowd of small boys whispering together, evidently unwilling 
to go up into the bedrooms. In a minute, however, a study 
door opened, a sixth-form boy came out, and off they all 
scuttled up the stairs, and then noiselessly dispersed to their 
different rooms. Tom’s heart beat rather quick as he and 10 
East reached their room, but he had made up his mind. “I 
shan’t hide. East,” said he. 

“Very well, old fellow,” replied East, evidently pleased; 
“no more shall I — they’ll be here for us directly.” 

The room was a great big one with a dozen beds in it, but 15 
not a boy that Tom could see, except East and himself. East 
pulled off his coat and waistcoat, and then sat on the bottom 
of his bed whistling and pulling off his boots ; Tom followed 
his example. 

A noise and steps are heard in the passage, the door opens, 20 
and in rush four or five great fifth-form boys, headed by Flash- 
man in his glory. 

Tom and East slept in the further corner of the room, and 
were not seen at first. 

“Gone to ground, eh?” roared Flashman; “push ’em out 25 
then, boys! look under the beds:” and he pulled up the little 
white curtain of the one nearest him. “ Who-o-op,” he roared, 
pulling away at the leg of a small boy, who held on tight to 
the leg of the bed, and sung out lustily for mercy. 

“ Here, lend a hand, one of you, and help me pull out this 30 
young howling brute. Hold your tongue, sir, or I’ll kill you.” 

“ Oh, please, Flashman, please. Walker, don’t toss me 1 
I’ll fag for you. I’ll do anything, only don’t toss me.” 

“You be hanged,” said Flashman, lugging the wretched 

boy along, “ ’twon’t hurt you, you 1 Come along, boys, 35 

here he is.” 

“I say, Flashey,” sung out another of the big boys, “drop 
that; you heard what old Pater Brooke said to-night. I’ll 
be hanged if we’ll toss any one against his will — no more 
bullying. Let him go, I say.” 40 

Flashman, with an oath and a kick, released his prey, who 


92 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


rushed headlong under his bed again, for fear they should 
change their minds, and crept along underneath the other 
beds, till he got under that of the sixth-form boy, which he 
knew they daren’t disturb. 

5 ‘‘There’s plenty of youngsters don’t care about it,” said 
Walker. “ Here, here’s Scud East — you’ll be tossed, won’t 
you, young un?” Scud was East’s nickname, or Black, as 
we called it, gained by his fieetness of foot. 

“Yes,” said East, “if you like, only mind my foot.” 
lo “And here’s another who didn’t hide. Hullo! new boy; 
what’s your name, sir? ” 

“ Brown.” 

“ Well, Whitey Brown, you don’t mind being tossed ? ” 

“No,” said Tom, setting his teeth. 

15 “Come along then, boys,” sung out Walker, and away they 
all went, carrying along Tom and East, to the intense relief 
of four or five other small boys, who crept out from under the 
beds and behind them. 

“What a trump Scud is!” said one. “They won’t come 
20 back here now.” 

“And that new boy, too; he must be a good plucked one.” 

“ Ah ! wait till he has been tossed on to the floor; see how 
he’ll like it then !” 

Meantime the procession went down the passage to Number 7 , 
25 the largest room, and the scene of tossing, in the middle of 
which was a great open space. Here they joined other parties 
of the bigger boys, each with a captive or two, some willing 
to be tossed, some sullen, and some frightened to death. At 
Walker’s suggestion all who were afraid were let off, in honour 
30 of Pater Brooke’s speech. 

Then a dozen big boys seized hold of a blanket, dragged from 
one of the beds. “ In with Scud ! quick, there’s no time to 
lose.” East was chucked into the blanket. “Once, twice, 
thrice, and away !” up he went like a shuttlecock, but not quite 
35 up to the ceiling. 

“Now, boys, with a will,” cried Walker, “once, twice, thrice, 
and away!” This time he went clean up, and kept himself 
from touching the ceiling with his hand, and so again a third 
time, when he was turned out, and up went another boy. 
40 And. then came Tom’s turn. He lay quite still, by East’s 
advice, and didn’t dislike the “once, twice, thrice”; but the 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


93 


“away” wasn’t so pleasant. They were in good wind now, 
and sent him slap up to the ceiling first time, against which 
his knees came rather sharply. But the moment’s pause before 
descending was the rub, the feeling of utter helplessness and 
of leaving his whole inside behind him sticking to the ceiling. 5 
Tom was very near shouting to be set down, when he found 
himself back in the blanket, but thought of East, and didn’t; 
and so took his three tosses without a kick or a cry, and was 
called a young trump for his pains. 

He and East, having earned it, stood now looking on. No 10 
catastrophe happened, as all the captives were cool hands, and 
didn’t struggle. This didn’t suit Flashman. What your real 
bully likes in tossing, is when the boys kick and struggle, or 
hold on to one side of the blanket, and so get pitched bodily 
on to the floor; it’s no fun to him when no one is hurt or fright- 15 
ened. 

“ Let’s toss two of them together. Walker,” suggested he. 

“What a cursed bully you are, Flashey !” rejoined the other. 
“Up with another one.” 

And so no two boys were tossed together, the peculiar hard- 20 
ship of which is, that it’s too much for human, nature to lie 
still then and share troubles ; and so the wretched pair of small 
boys struggle in the air which shall fall a-top in the descent, 
to the no small risk of both falling out of the blanket, and the 
huge delight of brutes like Flashman. 25 

But now there’s a cry that the praepostor of the room is 
coming; so the tossing stops, and all scatter to their different 
rooms ; and Tom is left to turn in, with the first day’s experience 
of a public school to meditate upon. 


CHAPTER VII 


SETTLING TO THE COLLAR 

Says Giles, “ ’Tis mortal hard to go ; 

But if so be's I must, 

I mean to follow arter he 

As goes himself the fust.” — Ballad. 

Everybody, I suppose, knows the dreamy delicious state 
in which on,e lies, half asleep, half awake, while consciousness 
begins to return after a sound night's rest in a new place which 
we are glad to be in, following upon a day of unwonted excite- 
5 ment and exertion. There are few pleasanter pieces of life. 
The worst of it is that they last such a short time; for, nurse 
them as you will, by lying perfectly passive in mind and body, 
you can’t make more than five minutes or so of them. After 
which time the stupid, obstrusive, wakeful entity which we 
I o call “I,” as impatient as he is stiff-necked, spite of our teeth 
will force himself back again, and take possession of us down 
to our very toes. 

It was in this state that Master Tom lay at half-past seven 
on the morning following the day of his arrival, and from 
15 his clean little white bed watched the movements of Bogle 
(the generic name by which the successive shoeblacks of the 
Schoolhouse were known), as he marched round from bed to 
bed, collecting the dirty shoes and boots, and depositing clean 
ones in their places. 

20 There he lay, half doubtful as to where exactly in the universe 
he was, but conscious that he had made a step in life which he 
had been anxious to make. It was only just light as he looked 
lazily out of the wide windows, and saw the tops of the great 
elms, and the rooks circling about, and cawing remonstrances 
25 to the lazy ones of their commonwealth before starting in a 

94 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


95 


body for the neighbouring ploughed fields. The noise of the 
room-door closing behind Bogle, as he made his exit with the 
shoe-basket under his arm, roused him thoroughly, and he 
sat up in bed and looked round the room. What in the w^orld 
could be the matter with his shoulders and loins? He felt 5 
as if he had been severely beaten all down his back, the natural 
results of his performance at his first match. He drew up 
his knees and rested his chin on them, and went over all the 
events of yesterday, rejoicing in his new life, what he had seen 
of it, and all that was to come. 10 

Presently one or two of the other boys roused themselves, and 
began to sit up and talk to one another in low tones. Then 
East, after a roll or tw^o, came to an anchor also, and, nodding 
to Tom, began examining his ankle. 

'‘What a pull,” said he, "that it’s lie-in-bed, for I shall be 15 
as lame as a tree, I think.” 

It was Sunday morning, and Sunday lectures had not yet 
been established; so that nothing but breakfast intervened 
between bed and eleven o’clock chapel — a gap by no means 
easy to fill up : in fact, though received with the correct amount 20 
of grumbling, the first lecture instituted by the Doctor shortly 
afterwards was a great boon to the School. It was lie-in-bed, 
and no one was in a hurry to get up, especially in rooms where 
the sixth-form boy was a good-tempered fellow, as was the 
case in Tom’s room, and allowed the small boys to talk and 25 
laugh and do pretty much what they pleased, so long as they 
didn’t disturb him. His bed was a bigger one than the rest, 
standing in the corner by the fireplace, with washing-stand and 
large basin by the side, where he lay in state, with his white 
curtains tucked in so as to form a retiring place : an awful sub- 30 
ject of contemplation to Tom, who slept nearly opposite, 
and watched the great man rouse himself and take a book from 
under his pillow, and begin reading, leaning his head on his 
hand, and turning his back to the room. Soon, however, a 
noise of striving urchins arose, and muttered encouragements 35 
from the neighbouring boys, of "Go it. Tadpole!” "Now, 
young Green!” "Haul away his blanket!” "Slipper him 
on the hands!” Young Green and little Hall, commonly 
called Tadpole, from his great black head and thin legs, slept 
side by side far away by the door, and were forever playing 4° 
one another tricks, which usually ended, as on this morning, in 


96 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


open and violent collision : and now, unmindful of all order and 
authority, there they were, each hauling away at the other’s 
bedclothes with one hand, and with the other, armed with a 
slipper, belabouring whatever portion of the body of his ad- 
5 versary came within reach. 

Hold that noise, up in the corner,” called out the praepostor, 
sitting up and looking round his curtains; and the Tadpole 
and young Green sank down into their disordered beds; and 
then, looking at his watch, added, Hullo, past eight ! — 
lo whose turn for hot water?” 

(Where the praepostor was particular in his ablutions, the 
fags in his room had to descend in turn to the kitchen, and beg 
or steal hot water for him; and often the custom extended 
further, and two boys went down every morning to get a 
15 supply for the whole room.) 

“East’s and Tadpole’s,” answered the senior fag, who kept 
the rota. 

“I can’t go,” said East; “I’m dead lame.” 

“Well, be quick some of you, thnt’s all,” said the great man, 
20 as he turned out of bed, and putting on his slippers, went out 
into the great passage, which runs the whole length of the bed- 
rooms, to get his Sunday habiliments out of his portmanteau. 

“Let me go for you,” said Tom to East, “I should like it.” 

“Well, thank’ee, that’s a good fellow. Just pull on your 
25 trousers, and take your jug and mine. Tadpole will show 
you the way.” 

And so Tom and the Tadpole, in nightshirts and trousers, 
started off downstairs, and through “Thos’s hole,” as the little 
buttery, where candles and beer and bread and cheese were 
30 served out at night, was called, across the Schoolhouse court, 
down a long passage, and into the kitchen ; where, after some 
parley with the stalwart, handsome cook, who declared that 
she had filled a dozen jugs already, thej^ got their hot water, 
and returned with all speed and great caution. As it was, they 
35 narrowly escaped capture by some privateers from the fifth- 
form rooms, who were on the lookout for the hot-water con- 
voys, and pursued them up to the very door of their room, 
making them spill half their load in the passage. “Better 
than going down again though,” as Tadpole remarked, “as 
40 we should have had to do if those beggars had caught us.” 

By the time that the calling-over bell rang, Tom and his 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


97 


new comrades were all down, dressed in their best clothes, 
and he had the satisfaction of answering ''here’’ to his name 
for the first time, the praepostor of the week having put it in 
at the bottom of his list. And then came breakfast, and a 
saunter about the close and town with East, whose lameness 5 
only became severe when any fagging had to be done. And 
so they whiled away the time until morning chapel. 

It was a fine November morning, and the close soon became 
alive with boys of all ages, who sauntered about on the grass, 
or walked round the gravel walk, in parties of two or three. 10 
East, still doing the cicerone, pointed out all the remarkable 
characters to Tom as they passed : Osbert, who could throw 
a cricket-ball from the Little-side ground over the rook trees 
to the Doctor’s wall; Gray, who had got the Balliol scholar- 
ship,® and, what East evidently thought of much more im- 15 
portance, a half -holiday for the School by his success ; Thorne, 
who had run ten miles in two minutes over the hour; Black, 
who had held his own against the cock of the town in the last 
row with the louts; and many more heroes, who then and 
there walked about and were worshipped, all trace of whom 20 
has long since vanished from the scene of their fame; and the 
fourth-form boy who reads their names rudely cut out on the 
old hall tables, or painted upon the big side-cupboard (if hall 
tables and big side-cupboards still exist), wonders what man- 
ner of boys they were. It will be the same with you who 25 
wonder, my sons, whatever your prowess may be in cricket, 
or scholarship, or football. Two or three years, more or less, 
and then the steadily advancing, blessed wave will pass over 
your names as it has passed over ours. Nevertheless, play your 
games and do your work manfully — see only that that be done, 3° 
and let the remembrance of it take care of itself. 

The chapel-bell began to ring at a quarter to eleven, and 
Tom got in early and took his place in the lowest row, and 
watched all the other boys come in and take their places, filling 
row after row; and tried to construe the Greek text which was 35 
inscribed over the door with the slightest possible success, 
and wondered which of the masters, who walked down the 
chapel and took their seats in the exalted boxes at the end, 
would be his lord. And then came the closing of the doors, 
and the Doctor in his robes, and the service, which, however, 4° 
didn’t impress him much, for his feeling of wonder and curiosity 

H 


98 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


was too strong. And the boy on one side of him was scratch- 
ing his name on the oak paneling in front, and he couldn’t 
help watching to see what the name was, and whether it was 
well scratched: and the boy on the other side went to sleep 
5 and kept falling against him ; and on the whole, though many 
boys even in that part of the school were serious and attentive, 
the general atmosphere was by no means devotional; and 
when he got out into the close again, he didn’t feel at all com- 
fortable, or as if he had been to church, 
lo But at afternoon chapel it was quite another thing. He 
had spent the time after dinner in writing home to his mother, 
and so was in a better frame of mind; and his first curiosity 
was over, and he could attend more to the service. As the 
hymn after the prayers was being sung, and the chapel was 
15 getting a little dark, he was beginning to feel that he had been 
really worshipping. And then came that great event in his, 
as in every Rugby boy’s life of that day — the first sermon 
from the Doctor. 

More worthy pens than mine have described that scene. 
20 The oak pulpit standing out by itself above the School seats. 
The tall gallant form, the kindling eye, the voice, now soft as 
the low notes of a flute, now clear and stirring as the call of 
the light infantry bugle, of him who stood there Sunday after 
Sunday, witnessing and pleading for his Lord, the King of 
25 righteousness and love and glory, with whose spirit he was filled, 
and in whose power he spoke. The long lines of young faces, 
rising tier above tier, down the whole length of the chapel, 
from the little boy’s who had just left his mother to the young 
man’s who was going out next week into the great world 
30 rejoicing in his strength. It was a great and solemn sight, 
and never more so than at this time of year, when the only 
lights in the chapel were in the pulpit and at the seats of the 
praepostors of the week, and the soft twilight stole over the 
rest of the chapel, deepening into darkness in the high gallery 
35 behind the organ. 

But what w^as it after all which seized and held these three 
hundred boys, dragging them out of themselves, willing or 
unwilling, for twenty minutes, on Sunday afternoons? True, 
there always were boys scattered up and down the School, 
40 who in heart and head were worthy to hear and able to carry 
away the deepest and wisest words there spoken. But these 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


99 


were a minority always, generally a very small one, often so 
small a one as to be countable on the fingers of your hand. 
What was it that moved and held us, the rest of the three 
hundred reckless, childish boys, who feared the Doctor with 
all our hearts, and very little besides in heaven or earth: who 5 
thought more of our sets in the School than of the Church 
of Christ, and put the traditions of Rugby and the public 
opinion of boys in our daily life above the laws of God? We 
couldn't enter into half that we heard; we hadn’t the know- 
ledge of our own hearts or the knowledge of one another ; and 10 
little enough of the faith, hope, and love needed to that end. 
But we listened, as all boys in their better moods will listen 
(ay, and men too for the matter of that), to a man who we 
felt to be, with all his heart and soul and strength, striving 
against whatever was mean and unmanly and unrighteous in 15 
our little world. It was not the cold clear voice of one giving 
advice and warning from serene heights to those who were 
struggling and sinning below, but the warm living voice of 
one who was fighting for us and by our sides,® and calling on 
us to help him and ourselves and one another. And so, wearily 20 
and little by little, but surely and steadily on the whole, was 
brought home to the young boy, for the first time, the meaning 
of his life : that it was no fool’s or sluggard’s paradise into which 
he had wandered by chance, but a battlefield ordained from 
of old, where there are no spectators, but the youngest must 25 
take his side, and the stakes are life and death. And he who 
roused this consciousness in them, showed them at the same 
time, by every word he spoke in the pulpit, and by his whole 
daily life, how that battle was to be fought; and stood there 
before them their fellow-soldier and the captain of their band. 3° 
The true sort of captain, too, for a boys’ army, one who had no 
misgivings and gave no uncertain word of command, and, let 
who would yield or make truce, would fight the fight out (so every 
boy felt) to the last gasp and the last drop of blood. Other sides 
of his character might take hold of and influence boys here 35 
and there, but it was this thoroughness and undaunted courage 
which more than anything else won his way to the hearts of 
the great mass of those on whom he left his mark, and made 
them believe first in him, and then in his Master. 

It was this quality above all others which moved such boys 4° 
as our hero, who had nothing whatever remarkable about him 


100 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


except excess of boyishness: by which I mean animal life in 
its fullest measure, good nature and honest impulses, hatred 
of injustice and meanness, and thoughtlessness enough to sink 
a three-decker. And so, during the next two years, in which 
5 it was more than doubtful whether he would get good or evil 
from the School, and before any steady purpose or principle 
grew up in him, whatever his week’s sins and shortcomings 
might have been, he hardly ever left the chapel on Sunday 
evenings without a serious resolve to stand by and follow the 
lo Doctor, and a feeling that it was only cowardice »(the incarna- 
tion of all other sins in such a boy’s mind) which hindered him 
from doing so with all his heart. 

The next day Tom was duly placed in the third form, and 
began his lessons in a corner of the big School. He found the 
15 work very easy, as he had been well grounded and knew his 
grammar by heart; and, as he had no intimate companion to 
make him idle (East and his other Schoolhouse friends being 
in the lower-fourth, the form above him), soon gained golden 
opinions from his master, who said he was placed too low, 
20 and should be put out at the end of the half-year. So all went 
well with him in School, and he wrote the most flourishing 
letters home to his mother, full of his own success and the un- 
speakable delights of a pulDlic school. 

In the house, too, all went well. The end of the half-year 
25 was drawing near, which kept everybody in a good humour, 
and the house was ruled well and strongly by Warner and 
Brooke. True, the general system was rough and hard, and 
there was bullying in nooks and corners, bad signs for the 
future; but it never got further, or dared show itself openly, 
30 stalking about the passages and hall and bedrooms, and making 
the life of the small boys a continual fear. 

Tom, as a new boy, was of right excused fagging for the first 
month, but in his enthusiasm for his new life this privilege 
hardly pleased him ; and East and others of his young friends 
35 discovering this, kindly allowed him to indulge his fancy, 
and take their turns at night fagging and cleaning studies. 
These were the principal duties of the fags in the house. From 
supper until nine o’clock three fags taken in order stood in the 
passages, and answered any praepostor who called “Fag,” 
40 racing to the door, the last comer having to do the work. This 
consisted generally of going to the buttery for beer and bread 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


101 


and cheese (for the great men did not sup with the rest, but 
had each his own allowance in his study or the fifth-form room), 
cleaning candlesticks and putting in new candles, toasting 
cheese, bottling beer, and carrying messages about the house; 
and Tom, in the first blush of his hero-worship, felt it a high 5 
privilege to receive orders from, and be the bearer of the supper 
of Old Brooke. And besides this night-work, each praepostor 
had three or four fags especially allotted to him, of whom he 
was supposed to be the guide, philosopher, and friend, and 
who in return for these good offices had to clean out his study 10 
every morning by turns, directly after first lesson and before 
he returned from breakfast. And the pleasure of seeing the 
great men’s studies, and looking at their pictures, and peeping 
into their books, made Tom a ready substitute for any boy 
who was too lazy to do his own work. And so he soon gained 15 
the character of a good-natured willing fellow, who was ready 
to do a turn for any one. 

In all the games too he joined with all his heart, and soon 
became well versed in all the mysteries of football, by con- 
tinued practice at the Schoolhouse Little-side, ° which played 20 
daily. 

The only incident worth recording here, however, was his 
first run at hare and hounds. On the last Tuesday but one 
of the half-year he was passing through the hall after dinner, 
when he was hailed with shouts from Tadpole, and several other 25 
fags seated at one of the long tables, the chorus of which was, 
“Come and help us tear up scent.” 

Tom approached the table in obedience to the mysterious 
summons, always ready to help, and found the party engaged 
in tearing up old newspapers, copybooks, and magazines, into 30 
small pieces, with which they were filling four large canvas 
bags. 

“It’s the turn of our house to find scent for Big-side hare 
and hounds,” exclaimed Tadpole; “tear away, there’s no 
time to lose before calling-over.” 35 

“I think it’s a great shame,” said another small boy, “to 
have such a hard run for the last day.” 

“Which run is it?” said Tadpole. 

“Oh, the Barby run, I hear,” answered the other; “nine 
miles at least, and hard ground ; no chance of getting in at the 40 
finish, unless you’re a first-rate scud.” 


102 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


'‘‘Well, I’m going to have a try,” said Tadpole; “it’s the 
last run of the half, and if a fellow gets in at the end. Big-side 
stands ale and bread and cheese and a bowl of punch ; and the 
Cock’s ° such a famous place for ale.” 

5 “I should like to try too,” said Tom. 

“Well then, leave your waistcoat behind, and listen at the 
'door, after calling-over, and you’ll hear where the meet is.” 

After calling-over, sure enough, there were two boys at the 
door, calling out, “ Big-side hare and hounds meet at White 
loHall;” and Tom, having girded himself with leather strap, 
and left all superfluous clothing behind, set off for White Hall, 
an old gable-ended house some quarter of a mile from the 
town, with East, whom he had persuaded to join, notwith- 
standing his prophecy that they could never get in, as it was 
15 the hardest run of the year. 

At the meet they found some forty or fifty boys, and Tom 
felt sure, from having seen many of them run at football, that 
he and East were more likely to get in than they. 

After a few minutes’ waiting, two well-known runners, 
20 chosen for the hares, buckled on the four bags filled with scent, 
compared their watches with those of young Brooke and 
Thorne, and started off at a long slinging trot across the fields 
in the direction of Barby. Then the hounds clustered round 
Thorne, who explained shortly, “They’re to have six minutes’ 
25 law. We run into the Cock, and every one who comes in 
within a quarter of an hour of the hares’ll be counted, if he 
has been round Barby church.” Then came a minute’s pause 
or so, and then the watches are pocketed, and the pack is 'led 
through the gateway into the field which the hares had first 
30 crossed. Here they break into a trot, scattering over the field 
to find the first traces of the scent which the hares throw out 
as they go along. The old hounds make straight for the likely 
points, and in a minute a cry of “forward” comes from one of 
them, and the whole pack quickening their pace make for the 
35 spot, while the boy who hit the scent first, and the two or three 
nearest to him, are over the first fence, and making play along 
the hedgerow in the long grass-field beyond. The rest of the 
pack rush at the gap already made, and scramble through, 
jostling one another. “Forward” again, before they are half 
40 through ; the pace quickens into a sharp run, the tail hounds 
all straining to get up with the lucky leaders. They are gallant 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


103 


hares, and the scent lies thick right across another meadow 
and into a ploughed field, where the pace begins to tell; then 
over a good wattle ° with a ditch on the other side, and down 
a large pasture studded with old thorns, which slopes down 
to the first brook ; the great ’Leicestershire sheep charge away 5 
across the field as the pack comes racing down the slope. 
The brook is a small one, and the scent lies right ahead up the 
opposite slope, and as thick as ever; not a turn or a check 
to favour the tail hounds, who strain on, now trailing in a long 
line, many a youngster beginning to drag his legs heavily, and 10 
feel his heart beat like a hammer, and the bad-plucked ones 
thinking that after all it isn’t worth while to keep it up. 

Tom, East, and the Tadpole had a good start, and are well 
up for such young hands, and after rising the slope and crossing 
the next field, find themselves up with the leading hounds, 15 
who have overrun the scent and are trying back; they have 
come a mile and a half in about eleven minutes, a pace vdiich 
shows that it is the last day. About twenty-five of the original 
starters only show here, the rest having already given in; 
the leaders are busy making casts into the fields on the left 20 
and right, and the others get their second winds. 

Then comes the cry of '‘forward” again, from young Brooke, 
from the extreme left, and the pack settles down to work again 
steadily and doggedly, the whole keeping pretty w^ell together. 
The scent, though still good, is not so thick; there is no need 25 
of that, for in this part of the run every one knows the line 
which must be taken, and so there are no casts to be made,® 
but good downright running and fencing to be done. All 
who are now up mean coming in, and they come to the foot 
of Barby Hill without losing more than two or three more of 30 
the pack. This last straight two miles and a half is always 
a vantage ground for the hounds, and the hares know it well; 
they are generally viewed on the side of Barby Hill, and all 
eyes are on the lookout for them to-day. But not a sign of 
them appears, so now will be the hard work for the hounds, and 35 
there is nothing for it but to cast about for the scent, for it is 
now the hares’ turn, and they may baffle the pack dreadfully 
in the next two miles. 

Ill fares it now with our youngsters that they are School- 
house boys, and so follow young Brooke, for he takes the wide 4 ° 
casts round to the left, conscious of his own powers, and loving 


104 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


the hard work. For if you would consider for a moment, you small 
boys, you would remember that the Cock, where the run ends 
and the good ale will be going, lies far out to the right on the 
Dunchurch road,° so that every cast you take to the left is 
5 so much extra work. And at this stage of the run, when the 
evening is closing in already, no one remarks whether you run 
a little cunning or not; so you should stick to those crafty 
hounds who keep edging away to the right, and not follow 
a prodigal like young Brooke, whose legs are twice as long as 
lo yours and of cast-iron, wholly indifferent to two or three miles 
more or less. However, they struggle after him, sobbing and 
plunging along, Tom and East pretty close, and Tadpole, whose 
big head begins to pull him down, some thirty yards behind. 

Now comes a brook, with stiff clay banks, from which they 
15 can hardly drag their legs, and they hear faint cries for help 
from the wretched Tadpole, who has fairly stuck fast. But 
they have too little run left in themselves to pull up for their 
own brothers. Three fields more, and another check, and then 
‘‘forward” called away to the extreme right. 

20 The two boys’ souls die within them; they can never do 
it. Young Brooke thinks so too, and says kindly, “You’ll 
cross a lane after next field, keep down it, and you’ll hit the 
Dunchurch road below the Cock,” and then steams away for 
the run in, in which he’s sure to be first, as if he were just 
25 starting. They struggle on across the next field, the “for- 
wards” getting fainter and fainter, and then ceasing. The 
whole hunt is out of earshot, and all hope of coming in is 
over. 

“Hang it all !” broke out East, as soon as he had got wind 
30 enough, pulling off his hat and mopping at his face, all spattered 
with dirt and lined with sweat, from which went up a thick 
steam into the still cold air. “I told you how it would be. 
What a thick I was to come ! Here we are, dead beat, and yet 
I know we’re close to the run in, if we knew the country.” 

35 “Well,” said Tom, mopping away, and gulping down his 
disappointment, “it can’t be helped. We did our best, any- 
how. Hadn’t we better find this lane and go down it, as young 
Brooke told us?” 

“I suppose so — nothing else for it,” grunted East. “If 
40 ever I go out last day again,” growl — growl — growl. 

So they tried back slowly and sorrowfully, and found the 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


105 


lane, and went limping down it, plashing in the cold puddly- 
ruts, and beginning to feel how the run had taken it out of 
them. The evening closed in fast, and clouded over, dark, 
cold, and dreary. 

“I say, it must be locking-up, I should think,’' remarked 5 
East, breaking the silence; ‘'it’s so dark.” 

“What if we’re late?” said Tom. 

“No tea, and sent up to the Doctor,” answered East. 

The thought didn’t add to their cheerfulness. Presently 
a faint halloo was heard from an adjoining field. They an- 10 
swered it and stopped, hoping for some competent rustic to 
guide them, when over a gate some twenty yards ahead crawled 
the wretched Tadpole, in a state of collapse ; he had lost a shoe 
in the brook, and been groping after it up to his elbows in 
the stiff wet clay, and a more miserable creature in the shape 15 
of boy seldom has been seen. 

The sight of him, notwithstanding, cheered them, for he 
was some degrees more wretched than they. They also cheered 
him, as he was now no longer under the dread of passing his night 
alone in the fields. And so, in better heart, the three plashed 20 
painfully down the never ending lane. At last it widened, 
just as utter darkness set in, and they came out on to a turn- 
pike-road, and there paused, bewildered, for they had lost all 
bearings, and knew not whether to turn to the right or left. 

Luckily for them they had not to decide, for lumbering 25 
along the road, with one lamp lighted and two spavined horses 
in the shafts, came a heavy coach, which after a moment’s 
suspense they recognized as the Oxford coach, the redoubtable 
Pig and Whistle. 

It lumbered slowly up, and the boys mustering their last 30 
run, caught it as it passed, and began scrambling up behind, 
in which exploit East missed his footing and fell flat on his 
nose along the road. Then the others hailed the old scare- 
crow of a coachman, who pulled up and agreed to take them 
in for a shilling; so there they sat on the b^ack seat, drubbing 35 
with their heels, and their teeth chattering with cold, and 
jogged into Rugby some forty minutes after locking-up. 

Five minutes afterwards three small, limping, shivering 
figures steal along through the Doctor’s garden, and into the 
house by the servants’ entrance (all the other gates have been 40 
closed long since), where the first thing they light upon in the 


106 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


passage is old Thomas, ambling along, candle in one hand and 
keys in the other. 

He stops and examines their condition with a grim smile. 
''Ah! East, Hall, and Brown, late for locking-up. Must go 
5 up to the Doctor’s study at once.” 

"Well but, Thomas, mayn’t we go and wash first? You 
can put down the time, you know.” 

"Doctor’s study d’rectly you come in — that’s the orders,” 
replied old Thomas, motioning towards the stairs at the end 
lo of the passage which led up into the Doctor’s house ; and the 
boys turned ruefully down it, not cheered by the old verger’s 
muttered remark, "What a pickle they boys be in !” Thomas 
referred to their faces and habiliments, but they construed it 
as indicating the Doctor’s state of mind. Upon the short 
15 flight of stairs they paused to hold counsel. 

"Who’ll go in first?” inquires Tadpole. 

"You — you’re the senior,” answered East. 

"Catch me — look at the state I’m in,” rejoined Hall, 
showing the arms of his jacket. " I must get behind you tw^o.” 
20 "Well, but look at me,” said East, indicating the mass of 
clay behind which he was standing; "I’m worse than you, 
two to one; you might grow cabbages on my trousers.” 

"That’s all down below, and you can keep your legs behind 
the sofa,” said Hall. 

25 "Here, Brown, you’re the show-figure — you must lead.” 

"But my face is all muddy,” argued Tom. 

"Oh, we’re all in one boat for that matter; but come on, 
we’re only making it worse, dawdling here.” 

" Well, just give us a brush then,” said Tom ; and they began 
30 trying to rub off the superfluous dirt from each other’s jackets, 
but it was not dry enough, and the rubbing made it worse; 
so in despair they pushed through the swing-door at the head 
of the stairs, and found themselves in the Doctor’s hall. 

"That’s the library door,” said East in a whisper, pushing 
35 Tom forwards. The sound of merry voices and laughter came 
from within, and his first hesitating knock was unanswered. 
But at the second, the Doctor’s voice said "Come in,” and Tom 
turned the handle, and he, with the others behind him, sidled 
into the room. 

40 The Doctor looked up from his task ; he was working away 
with a great chisel at the bottom of a boy’s sailing boat, the 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


107 


lines of which he was no doubt fashioning on the model of 
one of Nicias’ ° galleys. Round him stood three or four chil- 
dren; the candles burnt brightly on a large table at the further 
end, covered with books and papers, and a great fire threw 
a ruddy glow over the rest of the room. All looked so kindly, 5 
and homely, and comfortable, that the boys took heart in 
a moment, and Tom advanced from behind the shelter of the 
great sofa. The Doctor nodded to the children, who went 
out, casting curious and amused glances at the three young 
scarecrows. 10 

‘^Well, my little fellows,” began the Doctor, drawing himself 
up with his back to the fire, the chisel in one hand and his 
coat-tails in the other, and his eyes twinkling as he looked them 
over; “ what makes you so late ? ” 

“Please, sir, we’ve been out Big-side hare and hounds, 15 
and lost our way.” 

“Hah! you co»uldn’t keep up, I suppose?” 

“Well, sir,” said East, stepping out, and not liking that the 
Doctor should think lightly of his running powers, “we got 
round Barby all right, but then — ” 20 

“Why, what a state you’re in, my boy!” interrupted the 
Doctor, as the pitiful condition of East’s garments was fully 
revealed to him. 

“That’s the fall I got, sir, in the road,” said East, looking 
down at himself ; “the Old Pig came by — 25 

“The what?” said the Doctor. 

“The Oxford coach, sir,” explained Hall. 

“Hah! yes, the Regulator,” said the Doctor. 

“And I tumbled on my face, trying to get up behind,” went 
on East. 3° 

“You’re not hurt, I hope?” said the Doctor. 

“Oh no, sir.” 

“ Well now, run upstairs, all three of you, and get clean things 
on, and then tell the housekeeper to give you some tea. You’re 
too young to try such long runs. Let Warner know I’ve seen 35 
you. Good night.” 

“Good night, sir.” And away scuttled the three boys in 
high glee. 

“What a brick, not to give us even twenty lines to learn!” 
said the Tadpole, as they reached their bedroom ; and in half 40 
an hour afterwards they were sitting by the fire in the house- 


108 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


keeper’s room at a sumptuous tea, with cold meat, ^Hwice as 
good a grub as we should have got in the hall,” as the Tadpole 
remarked with a grin, his mouth full of buttered toast. All 
their grievances were forgotten, and they were resolving to 
5 go out the first Big-side next half, and thinking hare and 
hounds the most delightful of games. 

A day or two afterwards the great passage outside the bed- 
rooms was cleared of the boxes and portmanteaus, which went 
down to be packed by the matron, and great games of chariot- 
lo racing, and cock-fighting, and bolstering, went on in the vacant 
space, the sure sign of a closing half-year. 

Then came the making up of parties for the journey home, 
and Tom joined a party who were to hire a coach, and post with 
four horses to Oxford. 

15 Then the last Saturday on which the Doctor came round to 
each form to give out the prizes, and hear the masters’ last 
reports of how they and their charges had been conducting 
themselves; and Tom, to his huge delight, was praised, and 
got his remove into the lower-fourth, in which all his School- 
20 house friends were. 

On the next Tuesday morning at four o’clock hot coffee was 
going on in the housekeeper’s and matron’s rooms; boys 
wrapped in great-coats and mufflers were swallowing hasty 
mouthfuls, rushing about, tumbling over luggage, and asking 
25 questions all at once of the matron ; outside the school gates 
were drawn up several chaises and the four-horse coach which 
Tom’s party had chartered, the postboys in their best jackets 
and breeches, and a cornopean-player, ° hired for the occasion, 
blowing away “A southerly wind and a cloudy sky,” waking 
30 all peaceful inhabitants halfway down the High Street. 

Every minute the bustle and hubbub increased, porters 
staggered about with boxes and bags, the cornopean played 
louder. Old Thomas sat in his den with a great yellow bag 
by his side, out of which he was paying journey-money to 
35 each boy, comparing by the light of a solitary dip the dirty, 
crabbed little list in his own handwriting, with the Doctor’s 
list and the amount of his cash; his head was on one side, his 
mouth screwed up, and his spectacles dim from early toil. 
He had prudently locked the door, and carried on his opera- 
40 tions solely through the window, or he would have been driven 
wild and lost all his money. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


109 


'‘Thomas, do be quick, we shall never catch the Highflyer 
at Dun church.” 

“That’s your money, all right. Green.” 

“Hullo, Thomas, the Doctor said I was to have two-pound 
ten; you’ve only given me two pound.” — (I fear that Master 5 
Green is not confining himself strictly to truth.) Thomas 
turns his head more on one side than ever, and spells away 
at the dirty list. Green is forced away from the window. 

“Here, Thomas, never mind him, mine’s thirty shillings.” 
“And mine too,” “and mine,” shouted others. 10 

One way or another, the party to which Tom belonged all 
got packed and paid, and sallied out to the gates, the cor- 
nopean playing frantically “Drops of Brandy,” in allusion, 
probably, to the slight potations in which the musician and 
postboys had been already indulging. All luggage was care- 15 
fully stowed away inside the coach and in the front and hind 
boots, so that nol a hatbox was visible outside. Five or six 
small boys, with pea-shooters, and the cornopean-player, got 
up behind; in front the big boys, mostly smoking, not for 
pleasure, but because they are now gentlemen at large — and 20 
this is the most correct public method of notifying the fact. 

“Robinson’s coach will be down the road in a minute, it 
has gone up to Bird’s to pick up, — we’ll wait till they’re close, 
and make a race of it,” says the leader. “Now, boys, half-a- 
sovereign apiece if you beat ’em into Dunchurch by one hun- 25 
dred yards.” 

“All right, sir,” shouted the grinning postboys. 

Down comes Robinson’s coach in a minute or two, with a 
rival cornopean, and away go the two vehicles, horses galloping, 
boys cheering, horns playing loud. There is a special provi- 30 
dence over schoolboys as well as sailors, or they must have upset 
twenty times in the first five miles ; sometimes actually abreast 
of one another, and the boys on the roofs exchanging volleys 
of peas, now nearly running over a post-chaise which had 
started before them, now halfway up a bank, now with a wheel- 35 
and-a-half over a yawning ditch : and all this in a dark morn- 
ing, with nothing but their own lamps to guide them. How- 
ever, it’s all over at last, and they have run over nothing but 
an old pig in Southam Street; the last peas are distributed in 
the Corn Market at Oxford, where they arrive between eleven 40 
and twelve, and sit down to a sumptuous breakfast at the 


110 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


Angel, which they are made to pay for accordingly. Here 
the party breaks up, all going now different ways; and Tom 
orders out a chaise and pair as grand as a lord, though he has 
scarcely five shillings left in his pocket and more than twenty 
5 miles to get home. 

‘‘Where to, sir?’' 

“Red Lion, Faringdon,” says Tom, giving ostler a shilling. 

“All right, sir. Red Lion, Jem,” to the postboy, and Tom 
rattles away towards home. At Faringdon, being known to 
lo the innkeeper, he gets that worthy to pay for the Oxford horses 
and forward him in another chaise at once; and so the gor- 
geous young gentleman arrives at the paternal mansion, and 
Squire Brown looks rather blue at having to pay two-pound 
15 ten-shillings for the posting expenses from Oxford. But the 
boy’s intense joy at getting home, and the wonderful health 
he is in, and the good character he brings, and the brave stories 
he tells of Rugby, its doings and delights, soon mollify the Squire, 
and three happier people didn’t sit down to dinner that day in 
20 England (it is the boy’s first dinner at six o’clock at home, 
great promotion already), than the Squire and his wife and 
Tom Brown, at the end of his first half-year at Rugby. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE 

“ They are slaves who will not choose 
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse. 

Rather than in silence shrink 

From the truth they needs must think : 

They are slaves who dare not be 
In the right with two or three." 

— Lowell : Stanzas on Freedom. 

The lower-fourth form, in which Tom found himself at the 
beginning of the next half-year, was the largest form in the 
Lower school, and numbered upwards of forty boys. Young 
gentlemen of all ages from nine to fifteen were to be found 
there, who expended such part of their energies as was devoted 5 
to Latin and Greek upon a book of Livy,° the Bucolics of 
Virgil,® and the Hecuba of Euripides,® which were ground out 
in small daily portions. The driving of this unlucky lower- 
fourth must have been grievous work to the unfortunate mas- 
ter, for it was the most unhappily constituted of any in the lo 
school. Here stuck the great stupid boys, who for the life of 
them could never master the accidence; the objects alter- 
nately of mirth and terror to the youngsters, who were daily 
taking them up and laughing at them in lesson, and getting 
kicked by them for so doing in play-hours. There were no 15 
less than three unhappy fellows in tail coats, with incipient 
down on their chins, w^hom the Doctor and the master of 
the form w^ere always endeavouring to hoist into the Upper 
school, but whose parsing and construing resisted the most 
w^ell-meant shoves. Then came the mass of the form, boys 20 
of eleven and twelve, the most mischievous and reckless age, 
of British youth, of whom East and Tom Brown were fair 
specimens. As full of tricks as monkeys, and of excuses as 
‘ 111 


112 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


Irish women, making fun of their master, one another, and 
their lessons, Argus® himself would have been puzzled to keep 
an eye on them; and as for making them steady or serious 
for half an hour together, it was simply hopeless. The re- 
5 mainder of the form consisted of young prodigies of nine and 
ten, who were going up the school at the rate of a form a 
half-year, all boys’ hands and wits being against them in their 
progress. It would have been one man’s work to see that 
the precocious youngsters had fair play; and as the master 
lo had a good deal besides to do, they hadn’t, and Avere forever 
being shoved down three or four places, their verses stolen, 
their books inked, their jackets whitened, and their lives other- 
wise made a burden to them. 

The lower-fourth, and all the forms below it, were heard 
15 in the great school, and were not trusted to prepare their 
lessons before coming in, but were whipped into school three- 
quarters of an hour before the lesson began by their respective 
masters, and there, scattered about on the benches, with 
dictionary and grammar, hammered out their twenty lines 
20 of Virgil and Euripides in the midst of Babel. The masters 
of the lower school walked up and down the great school to- 
gether during this three-quarters of an hour, or sat in their 
desks reading, or looking over copies, and keeping such order 
as was possible. But the lower-fourth was just now an over- 
25 grown form, too large for any one man to attend to properly, 
and consequently the elysium or ideal form of the young 
scapegraces who formed the staple of it. 

Tom, as has been said, had come up from the third with 
a good character, but the temptations of the lower-fourth 
30 soon proved too strong for him, and he rapidly fell away, 
and became as unmanageable as the rest. For some weeks, 
indeed, he succeeded in maintaining the appearance of steadi- 
ness, and was looked upon favourably by his new master, 
whose eyes were first opened by the following little incident. 
35 Besides the desk which the master himself Occupied, there 
was another large unoccupied desk in the corner of the great 
school, which was untenanted. To rush and seize upon this 
desk, which was ascended by three steps and held four boys, 
was the great object of ambition of the lower-fourthers ; and 
40 the contentions for the occupation of it bred such disorder, 
that at last the master forbade its use altogether. This of 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


113 


course was a challenge to the more adventurous spirits to 
occupy it, and as it was capacious enough for two boys to lie 
hid there completely, it was seldom that it remained empty, 
notwithstanding the veto. Small holes were cut in the front, 
through which the occupants watched the masters as they 5 
walked up and down, and as lesson time approached, one boy 
at a time stole out and down the steps, as the masters’ backs 
were turned, and mingled with the general crowd on the forms 
below. Tom and East had successfully occupied the desk 
some half-dozen times, and were grown so reckless that they lo 
were in the habit of playing small games with fives’-balls° 
inside when the masters were at the other end of the big school. 
One day, as ill-luck would have it, the game became more 
exciting than usual, and the ball slipped through East’s fingers, 
and rolled slowly down the steps and out into the middle of 15 
the school, just as the masters turned in their walk and faced 
round upon the desk. The young delinquents watched their 
master, through the lookout holes, march slowly down the 
school straight upon their retreat, while all the boys in the 
neighbourhood of course stopped their work to look on : and 20 
not only were they ignominiously drawm out, and caned over 
the hand then and there, but their characters for steadiness 
w^ere gone from that time. How^ever, as they only shared 
the fate of some three-fourths of the rest of the form, this 
did not weigh heavily upon them. 25 

In fact, the only occasions on wdiich they cared about the 
matter w^ere the monthly examinations, w^hen the Doctor 
came round to examine their form, for one long awTul hour, 
in the w^ork wdiich they had done in the preceding month. 
The second monthly examination came round soon after Tom’s 30 
fall, and it was with anything but lively anticipations that 
he and the other low’-er-fourth boys came in to prayers on 
the morning of the examination day. 

Prayers and calling-over seemed twice as short as usual, 
and before they could get construes of a tithe of the hard 35 
passages marked in the margin of their books, they w^ere all 
seated round, and the Doctor w^as standing in the middle, 
talking in whispers to the master. Tom couldn’t hear a word 
which passed, and never lifted his eyes from his book; but 
he knew by a sort of magnetic instinct that the Doctor’s under- 40 
lip w^as coming out, and his eye beginning to burn, and his 

I 


114 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


gown getting gathered up more and more tightly in his left 
hand. The suspense was agonizing, and Tom knew that he 
was sure on such occasions to make an example of the School- 
house boys. “If he would only begin,’' thought Tom, “I 
5 shouldn’t mind.” 

At last the whispering ceased, and the name which was 
called out was not Brown. He looked up for a moment, 
but the Doctor’s face was too awful; Tom wouldn’t have 
met his eye for all he was worth, and buried himself in his 
lo book again. 

The boy who was called up first was a clever merry School- 
house boy, one of their set : he was some connection of the 
Doctor’s, and a great favourite, and ran in and out of his 
house as he liked, and so was selected for the first victim. 

15 “Triste lupus stabulis,”° began the luckless youngster, 
and stammered through some eight or ten lines. 

“There, that will do,” said the Doctor; “now construe.” 

On common occasions, the boy could have construed the 
passage well enough probably, but now his head was gone. 
20 “Triste lupus, the sorrowful wolf,” he began. 

A shudder ran through the whole form, and the Doctor’s 
wrath fairly boiled over; he made three steps up to the con- 
struer, and gave him a good box on the ear. The blow was 
not a hard one, but the boy was so taken by surprise that he 
25 started back; the form caught the back of his knees, and over 
he went on to the floor behind. There was a dead silence 
over the whole school; never before and never again while 
Tom was at school did the Doctor strike a boy in lesson. The 
provocation must have been great. However, the victim had 
30 saved his form for that occasion, for the Doctor turned to the 
top bench, and put on the best boys for the rest of the hour; 
and though, at the end of the lesson, he gave them all such 
a rating as they did not forget, this terrible field-day passed 
over without any severe visitations in the shape of punish- 
35 ments or floggings. Forty young scapegraces expressed their 
thanks to the “sorrowful wolf” in their different ways before 
second lesson. 

But a character for steadiness once gone is not easily re- 
covered, as Tom found, and for years afterwards he went up 
40 the school without it, and the masters’ hands were against 
him, and his against them. And he regarded them, as a matter 
of course, as his natural enemies. 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


115 


Matters were not so comfortable either in the house as they 
had been, for old Brooke left at Christmas, and one or two 
others of the sixth-form boys at the following Easter, Their 
rule had been rough, but strong and just in the main, and a 
higher standard was beginning to be set up; in fact, there 5 
had been a short foretaste of the good time which followed 
some years later. Just now, however, all threatened to return 
into darkness and chaos again. For the new praepostors 
were either small young boys, whose cleverness had carried 
them up to the top of the school, while in strength of body 10 
and character they were not yet fit for a share in the govern- 
ment; or else big fellows of the wrong sort, boys whose friend- 
ships and tastes had a downward tendency, who had not caught 
the meaning of their position and work, and felt none of its 
responsibilities. So under this no-government the School- 15 
house began to see bad times. The big fifth-form boys, who 
were a sporting and drinking set, soon began to usurp power, 
and to fag the little boys as if they were praepostors, and to 
bully and oppress any who showed signs of resistance. The 
bigger sort of sixth-form boys just described soon made com- 20 
mon cause with the fifth, while the smaller sort, hampered by 
their colleagues’ desertion to the enemy, could not make head 
against them. So the fags were without their lawful masters 
and protectors, and ridden over rough-shod by a set of boys 
whom they were not bound to obey, and whose only right 25 
over them stood in their bodily powers; and, as old Brooke 
had prophesied, the house by degrees broke up into small 
sets and parties, and lost the strong feeling of fellowship which 
he set so much store by, and with it much of the prowess in 
games and the lead in all school matters which he had done 30 
so much to keep up. 

In no place in the world has individual character more 
weight than at a public school. Remember this, I beseech 
you, all you boys who are getting into the upper forms. Now 
is the time in all your lives, probably, when you may have 35 
more wide influence for good or evil on the society you live in 
than you ever can have again. Quit yourselves like men,° 
then; speak up, and strike out if necessary, for whatsoever 
is true, and manly, and lovely, and of good report; never 
try to be popular, but only to do your duty and help others 4Q 
to do theirs, and you may leave the tone of feeling in the 


116 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


school higher than you found it, and so be doing good which 
no living soul can measure to generations of your countrymen 
yet unborn. For boys follow one another in herds like sheep, 
for good or evil; they hate thinking, and have rarely any 
5 settled principles. Every school, indeed, has its own tradi- 
tionary standard of right and wrong, which cannot be trans- 
gressed with impunity, marking certain things as low and 
blackguard, and certain others as lawful and right. This 
standard is ever varying, though it changes only slowly and 
lo little by little; and, subject only to such standard, it is the 
leading boys for the time being who give the tone to all the 
rest, and make the School either a noble institution for the 
training of Christian Englishmen, or a place where a young 
boy will get more evil than he would if he were turned out 
15 to make his way in London streets, or anything between these 
two extremes. 

The change for the worse in the Schoolhouse, however, 
didn’t press very heavily on our youngsters for some time; 
they were in a good bedroom, where slept the only prjepostor 
20 left who was able to keep thorough order, and their study 
was in his passage ; so, though thej^ were fagged more or less, 
and occasionally kicked or cuffed by the bullies, they were 
on the whole well off ; and the fresh, brave school life, so full 
of games, adventures, and good-fellowship, so ready at for- 
25 getting, so capacious at enjoying, so bright at forecasting, 
outweighed a thousand fold their troubles with the master 
of their form and the occasional ill-usage of the big boys in 
the house. It wasn’t till some year or so after the events 
recorded above that the prsepostor of their room and passage 
30 left. None of the other sixth-form boys would move into 
their passage, and, to the disgust and indignation of Tom 
and East, one morning after breakfast they were seized upon 
by Flashman, and made to carry down his books and furni- 
ture into the unoccupied study which he had taken. From 
35 this time they began to feel the weight of the tyranny of 
Flashman and his friends, and, now that trouble had come 
home to their own doors, began to look out for sympathizers 
and partners amongst the rest of the fags; and meetings of 
the oppressed began to be held, and murmurs to arise, and 
40 plots to be laid as to how they should free themselves and be 
avenged on their enemies. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


117 


While matters were in this state, East and Tom were one 
evening sitting in their study. They had done their work 
for first lesson, and Tom was in a brown study, brooding 
like a young William Tell, upon the wrongs of fags in general, 
and his own in particular. 5 

“I say. Scud,” said he at last, rousing himself to snuff the 
candle, “what right have the fifth-form boys to fag us as they 
do?” 

“No more right than you have to fag them,” answered East, 
without looking up from an early number of Pickwick, ° which 10 
was just coming out, and which he was luxuriously devouring, 
stretched on his back on the sofa. 

Tom relapsed into his brown study, and East went on read- 
ing and chuckling. The contrast of the boys’ faces would 
have given infinite amusement to a looker-on, the one so 15 
solemn and big with mighty purpose, the other radiant and 
bubbling over with fun. 

“Do you know, old fellow, I’ve been thinking it over a good 
deal,” began Tom again. 

“ Oh yes, I know, fagging you are thinking of. Hang it 20 
all, — but listen here, Tom — here’s fun. Mr. Winkle’s® 
horse — ” 

“And I’ve made up my mind,” broke in Tom, “that I won’t 
fag except for the sixth.” 

“Quite right too, my boy,” cried East, putting his finger 25 
on the place and looking up; “but a pretty peck of troubles 
you’ll get into, if you’re going to play that game. However, 
I’m all for a strike myself, if we can get others to join — it’s 
getting too bad.” 

“Can’t we get some sixth-form fellow to take it up?” asked 30 
Tom. 

“Well, perhaps we might; Morgan would interfere, I think. 
Only,” added East, after a moment’s pause, “you see, we 
should have to tell him about it, and that’s against School 
principles. Don’t you remember what old Brooke said about 35 
learning to take our own parts?” 

“ Ah, I wish old Brooke were back again — it was all right 
in his time.” 

“ Why, yes, you see, then the strongest and best fellows 
were in the sixth, and the fifth-form fellows were afraid of 40 
them, and they kept good order; but now our sixth-form 


118 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


fellows are too small, and the fifth don’t care for them, and 
do what they like in the house.” 

'‘And so we get a double set of masters,” cried Tom, in- 
dignantly; "the lawful ones, who are responsible to the Doctor 
5 at any rate, and the unlawful — the tyrants, who are respon- 
sible to nobody,” 

"Down with the tyrants!” cried East; "I’m all for law 
and order, and hurra for a revolution.” 

"I shouldn’t mind if it were only for young Brooke now,” 
losaid Tom, "he’s such a good-hearted, gentlemanly fellow, 
and ought to be in the sixth — I’d do anything for him. But 
that blackguard Flashman, who never speaks to one without 
a kick or an oath — ” 

"The cowardly brute,” broke in East, "how I hate him! 
15 And he knows it too, he knows that you and I think him a 
coward. What a bore that he’s got a study in this passage ! 
Don’t you hear them now at supper in his den? Brandy 
punch going. I’ll bet. I wish the Doctor would come out 
and catch him. We must change our study as soon as we 
20 can.” 

"Change or no change. I’ll never fag for him again,” said 
Tom, thumping the table. 

"Fa-a-a-ag!” sounded along the passage from Flashman’s 
study. The two boys looked at one another in silence. It 
25 had struck nine, so the regular night-fags had left duty, and 
they were the nearest to the supper-party. East sat up, and 
began to look comical, as he always did under difficulties. 

"Fa-a-a-ag!” again. No answer. 

"Here, Brown! East! you cursed young skulks,” roared 
30 out Flashman, coming to his open door, "I know you’re in 
— no shirking.” 

Tom stole to their door, and drew the bolts as noiselessly 
as he could; East blew out the candle. 

"Barricade the first,” whispered he. "Now, Tom, mind, 
35 no surrender.” 

"Trust me for that,” said Tom between his teeth. 

In another minute they heard the supper-party turn out 
and come down the passage to their door. They held their 
breaths, and heard whispering, of which they only made out 
40 Flashman’s wmrds, "I know the young brutes are in.” 

Then came summonses to open, which being unanswered, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


119 


the assault commenced: luckily the door was a good strong 
oak one, and resisted the united weight of Flashman’s party. 

A pause followed, and they heard a besieger remark, “They’re 
in safe enough — don’t you see how the door holds at top and 
bottom? so the bolts must be drawn. We should have forced 5 
the lock long ago.” East gave Tom a nudge, to call attention 
to this scientific remark. 

Then came attacks on particular panels, one of which at 
last gave way to the repeated kicks; but it broke inwards, 
and the broken piece got jammed across, the door being lined 10 
with green baize, and couldn’t easily be removed from out- 
side; and the besieged, scorning further concealment, strength- 
ened their defences by pressing the end of their sofa against 
the door. So, after one or two more ineffectual efforts, Flash- 
man & Co. retired, vowing vengeance in no mild terms. 15 

The first danger over, it only remained for the besieged to 
effect a safe retreat, as it was now near bedtime. They 
listened intently and heard the supper-party resettle them- 
selves, and then gently drew back first one bolt and then the 
other. Presently the convivial noises began again steadily. 20 
“Now then, stand by for a run,” said East, throwing the door 
wide open and rushing into the passage, closely followed by 
Tom. They were too quick to be caught, but Flashman was 
on the lookout, and sent an empty pickle-jar whizzing after 
them, which narrowly missed Tom’s head, and broke into 25 
twenty pieces at the end of the passage. “ He wouldn’t mind 
killing one, if he wasn’t caught,” said East, as they turned 
the corner. 

There was no pursuit, so the two turned into the hall, where 
they found a knot of small boys round the fire. Their story 30 
was told — the war of independence had broken out — who 
would join the revolutionary forces? Several others present 
bound themselves not to fag for the fifth form at once. One 
or two only edged off, and left the rebels. What else could 
they do? “I’ve a good mind to go to the Doctor straight,” 35 
said Tom, 

“That’ll never do — don’t you remember the levy of the 
school last half?” put in another. 

In fact, that solemn assembly, a levy of the school, had been 
held, at which the captain of the school had got up, and, after 4 ° 
premising that several instances had occurred of matters 


120 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


having been reported to the masters; that this was against 
public morality and School tradition ; that a levy of the sixth 
had been held on the subject, and they had resolved that 
the practice must be stopped at once; had given out that any 
5 boy, in whatever form, who should thenceforth appeal to a 
master, without having first gone to some praepostor and laid 
the case before him, should be thrashed publicly, and sent to 
Coventry. 

^‘Well, then, let’s try the sixth. Try Morgan,” suggested 
lo another. ‘‘No use” — “Blabbing won’t do,” was the general 
feeling. 

“ I’ll give you fellows a piece of advice,” said a voice from 
the end of the hall. They all turned round with a start, and 
the speaker got up from a bench on which he had been lying 
15 unobserved, and gave himself a shake; he was a big loose- 
made fellow, with huge limbs which had grown too far through 
his jacket and trousers. “ Don’t you go to anybody at all 
— you just stand out ; say you won’t fag — they’ll soon get 
tired of licking you. I’ve tried it on years ago with their 
20 forerunners.” 

“No! did you? Tell us how it was?” cried a chorus of 
voices, as they clustered round him. 

“ Well, just as it is with you. The fifth form would fag 
us, and I and some more struck, and we beat ’em. The good 
25 fellows left off directly, and the bullies who kept on soon got 
afraid.” 

“Was Flashman here then?” 

“Yes! and a dirty little snivelling, sneaking fellow he was 
too. He never dared join us, and used to toady the bullies 
30 by offering to fag for them and peaching against the rest of 
us.” 

“Why wasn’t he cut then?” said East. 

“Oh, toadies never get cut, they’re too useful. Besides, 
he has no end of great hampers from home, with wine and 
35 game in them; so he toadied and fed himself into favour.” 

The quarter-to-ten bell now rang, and the small boys went 
off upstairs, still consulting together, and praising their new 
counsellor, who stretched himself out on the bench before 
the hall fire again. There he lay, a very queer specimen of 
40 boyhood, by name Diggs, and familiarly called “the Mucker.” 
He was young for his size, and a very clever fellow, nearly 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


121 


at the top of the fifth. His friends at home, having regard, 

I suppose, to his age, and not to his size and place in the school, 
hadn’t put him into tails; and even his jackets were always 
too small; and he had a talent for destroying clothes and 
making himself look shabby. He wasn’t on terms with 5 
Flashman’s set, who sneered at his dress and ways behind 
his back, which he knew, and revenged himself by asking 
Flashman the most disagreeable questions, and treating him 
familiarly whenever a crowd of boys were round them. Neither 
was he intimate with any of the other bigger bo3'^s, who were 10 
warned off by his oddnesses, for he was a very queer fellow; 
besides, amongst other failings, he had that of impecuniosity 
in a remarkable degree. He brought as much money as other 
boys to school, but got rid of it in no time, no one knew how. 
And then, being also reckless, borrowed from any one, and 15 
when his debts accumulated and creditors pressed, would 
have an auction in the Hall of everything he possessed in the 
world, selling even his schoolbooks, candlestick, and study 
table. For weeks after one of these auctions, having rendered 
his study uninhabitable, he would live about in the fifth-form 20 
room and Hall, doing his verses on old letter-backs and odd 
scraps of paper, and learning his lessons no one knew how. 
He never meddled with any little boys, and was popular with 
them, though they all looked on him with a sort of compassion, 
and called him “poor Diggs,” not being able to resist appear- 25 
ances, or to disregard wholly even the sneers of their enemy 
Flashman. However, he seemed equally indifferent to the 
.sneers of big boys and the pity of small ones, and lived his 
own queer life with much apparent enjoyment to himself. 

It is necessary to introduce Diggs thus particularly, as he 30 
not only did Tom and East good service in their present war- 
fare, as is about to be told, but soon afterwards, when he got 
into the sixth, chose them for his fags, and excused them from 
study-fagging, thereby earning unto himself eternal gratitude 
from them, and from all who are interested in their history. 35 
And selfiom had small boys more need of a friend, for the 
morning after the siege the storm burst upon the rebels in 
all its violence. Flashman laid wait, and caught Tom before 
second lesson, and, receiving a point blank “No” when told 
to fetch his hat, seized him and twisted his arm, and went 40 
through the other methods of torture in use: “He couldn’t 


122 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


make me cry though,” as Tom said triumphantly to the rest 
of the rebels, “and I kicked his shins well, 1 know.” And 
soon it crept out that a lot of the fags were in league, and 
Flashman excited his associates to join him in bringing the 
5 young vagabonds to their senses ; and the house was filled with 
constant chasings, and sieges, and lickings of all sorts; and 
in return, the bullies’ beds were pulled to pieces and drenched 
with water, and their names written up on the walls with 
every insulting epithet which the fag invention could furnish, 
lo The war in short raged fiercely; but soon, as Diggs had told 
them, all the better fellows in the fifth gave up trying to fag 
them, and public feeling began to set against Flashman and 
his two or three intimates, and they were obliged to keep their 
doings more secret, but being thorough bacl fellows, missed 
15 no opportunity of torturing in private. Flashman was an 
adept in all ways, but above all in the power of saying cutting 
and cruel things, and could often bring tears to the eyes of 
boys in this way which all the thrashings in the world wouldn’t 
have wrung from them. 

20 And as his operations were being cut short in other direc- 
tions, he now devoted himself chiefly to Tom and East, who 
lived at his own door, and would force himself into their study 
whenever he found a chance, and sit there, sometimes alone, 
sometimes with a companion, interrupting all their work, 
25 and exulting in the evident pain which every now and then 
he could see he was inflicting on one or the other. 

The storm had cleared the air for the rest of the house, 
and a better state of things now began than there had been 
since old Brooke had left ; but an angry dark spot of thunder- 
30 cloud still hung over the end of the passage, where Flashman’s 
study and that of East and Tom lay. 

He felt that they had been the first rebels, and that the 
rebellion had been to a great extent successful; but what 
above all stirred the hatred and bitterness of his heart against 
35 them was, that in the frequent collisions which there had 
been of late they had openly called him coward and sneak, — 
the taunts were too true to be forgiven. While he Avas in the 
act of thrashing them, they would roar out instances of his 
funking at football, or shirking some encounter with a lout 
40 of half his own size. These things were all well enough known 
in the house, but to have his disgrace shouted out by small 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


123 . 


boys, to feel that they despised him, to be unable to silence 
them by any amount of torture, and to see the open laugh 
and sneer of his own associates (who were looking on, and 
took no trouble to hide their scorn from him, though they 
neither interfered with his bullying or lived a bit the less 5 
intimately with him) made him beside himself. Come what 
might, he would make those boys’ lives miserable. So the 
strife settled down into a personal affair between Flashman 
and our youngsters; a war to the knife, to be fought out in 
the little cockpit at the end of the bottom passage. 10 

Flashman, be it said, was about seventeen years old, and 
big and strong of his age. He played well at all games where 
pluck wasn’t much wanted, and managed generally to keep 
up appearances where it was; and having a bluff, offhand 
manner, which passed for heartiness, and considerable powers 15 
of being pleasant when he liked, went down with the school 
in general for a good fellow enough. Even in the School- 
house, by dint of his command of money, the constant supply 
of good things which he kept up, and his adroit toadyism, 
he had managed to make himself not only tolerated, but rather 20 
popular amongst his own contemporaries; although young 
Brooke scarcely spoke to him, and one or two others of the 
right sort showed their opinions of him whenever a chance 
offered. But the wrong sort happened to be in the ascendant 
just now, and so Flashman was a formidable enemy for small 25 
boys. This soon became plain enough. Flashman left no 
slander unspoken, and no deed undone, which could in any 
way hurt his victims, or isolate them from the rest of the house. 
One by one most of the other rebels fell away from them, 
while Flashman ’s cause prospered, and several other fifth- 30 
form boys began to look black at them and ill-treat them as 
they passed about the house. By keeping out of bounds, 
or at all events out of the house and quadrangle, all day, 
and carefully barring themselves in at night. East and Tom 
managed to hold on without feeling very miserable ; but it 35 
was as much as they could do. Greatly were they drawn 
then towards old Diggs, who, in an uncouth way, began to 
take a good deal of notice of them, and once or twice came to 
their study when Flashman was there, who immediately de- 
camped in consequence. The boys thought that Diggs must 4 ° 
have been watching. 


.124 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


When therefore, about this time, an auction was one night 
announced to take place in the Hall, at which, amongst the 
superfluities of other boys, all Diggs’ Penates® for the time 
being were going to the hammer. East and Tom laid their 
5 heads together, and resolved to devote their ready cash (some 
four shillings sterling) to redeem such articles as that sum 
would cover. Accordingly, they duly attended to bid, and 
Tom became the owner of two lots of Diggs’ things; — lot 1 , 
price one-and-threepence, consisting (as the auctioneer re- 
lo marked) of a “valuable assortment of old metals,” in the shape 
of a mouse-trap, a cheese-toaster without a handle, and a 
saucepan: lot 2, of a villainous dirty tablecloth and green 
baize curtain; while East, for one-and-sixpence, purchased 
a leather paper-case, with a lock but no key, once handsome, 
15 but now much the worse for wear. But the}'- had still the 
point to settle of how to get Diggs to take the things without 
hurting his feelings. This they solved by leaving them in his 
study, which was never locked when he was out. Diggs, 
who had attended the auction, remembered who had bought 
20 the lots, and came to their study soon after, and sat silent 
for some time, cracking his great red finger-joints. Then he 
laid hold of their verses, and began looking over and altering 
them, and at last got up, and turning his back to them, said, 
“You’re uncommon good-hearted little beggars, you two 
25 — I value that paper-case, my sister gave it me last holidays 

— I won’t forget;” and so tumbled out into the passage, 
leaving them somewhat embarrassed, but not sorry that he 
knew what they had done. 

The next morning was Saturday, the day on which the 
30 allowances of one shilling a week were paid, an important 
event to spendthrift youngsters; and great was the disgust 
amongst the small fry to hear that all the allowances had been 
impounded for the Derby lottery. That great event in the 
English year, the Derby, was celebrated at Rugby in those 
35 days by many lotteries. It was not an improving custom, 
I own, gentle reader, and led to making books, and betting, 
and other objectionable results; but when our great Houses 
of Palaver® think it right to stop the nation’s business on that 
day, and many of the members bet heavily themselves, can 
40 you blame us boys for following the example of our betters? 

— at any rate we did follow it. First there was the great 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


125 


School lottery, where the first prize was six or seven pounds; 
then each house had one or more separate lotteries. These 
were all nominally voluntary, no boy being compelled to put 
in his shilling who didn’t choose to do so; but besides Flash- 
man, there were three or four other fast sporting young gentle- 5 
men in the Schoolhouse, who considered subscription a matter 
of duty and necessity, and so, to make their duty come easy 
to the small boys, quietly secured the allowances in a lump 
when given out for distribution, and kept them. It was no 
use grumbling, — so many fewer tartlets and apples were 10 
eaten and fives’-balls bought on that Saturday; and after 
locking-up, when the money would otherwise have been spent, 
consolation was carried to many a small boy by the sound of 
the night-fags shouting along the passages, “ Gentlemen sports- 
men of the Schoolhouse, the lottery’s going to be drawn in 15 
the Hall.” It was pleasant to be called a gentleman sports- 
man — also to have a chance of drawing a favourite horse. 

The Hall was full of boys, and at the head of one of the 
long tables stood the sporting interest, with a hat before them, 
in which were the tickets folded up. One of them then began 20 
calling out the list of the house; each boy as his name was 
called drew a ticket from the hat and opened it; and most 
of the bigger boys, after drawing, left the Hall directly to go 
back to their studies or the fifth-form room. The sporting 
interest had all drawn blanks, and they were sulky accord- 25 
ingly; neither of the favourites had yet been drawn, and it 
had come dowm to the upper-fourth. So now, as each small 
boy came up and drew his ticket, it w^as seized and opened 
by Flashman, or some other of the standers-by. But no 
great favourite is drawm until it comes to the Tadpole’s turn, 30 
and he shuffles up and draws, and tries to make off, but is 
caught, 'and his ticket is opened like the rest. 

‘‘Here you are! Wanderer! the third favourite,” shouts 
the opener. 

“I say, just give me my ticket, please,” remonstrates Tad- 35 
pole. 

“Hullo, don’t be in a hurry,” breaks in Flashman; “what’ll 
you sell Wanderer for now?” 

“I don’t want to sell,” rejoins Tadpole. 

“Oh, don’t you! Now listen, you young fool — you don’t 40 
know anything about it ; the horse is no use to you. He won’t 


126 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


win, but I want him as a hedge. Now, 111 give you half-a- 
crown for him.” Tadpole holds out, but between threats 
and cajoleries at length sells half for one-shilling-and-sixpence, 
about a lifth of its fair market value; however, he is glad to re- 
5 alize anything, and as he wisely remarks, ‘‘ Wanderer mayn’t 
win, and the tizzy ° is safe anyhow.” 

East presently comes up and draws a blank. Soon after 
comes Tom’s turn; his ticket, like the others, is seized and 
opened. ‘'Here you are then,” shouts the opener, holding 
lo it up, “Harkaway! By Jove, Flashey, your young friend’s 
in luck.” 

“Give me the ticket,” says Flashman with an oath, leaning 
across the table with opened hand, and his face black with rage. 

“Wouldn’t you like it?” replies the opener, not a bad fellow 
15 at the bottom, and no admirer of Flashman’s. “ Here, Brown, 
catch hold,” and he hands the ticket to Tom, who pockets it; 
whereupon Flashman makes for the door at once, that Tom 
and the ticket may not escape, and there keeps watch until 
the drawing is over and all the boys are gone, except the sport- 
20 ing set of five or six, who stay to compare books, make bets, 
and so on, Tom, who doesn’t choose to move while Flashman 
is at the door, and East, who stays by his friend anticipating 
trouble. 

The sporting set now gathered round Tom. Public opinion 
25 wouldn’t allow them actually to rob him of his ticket, but any 
humbug or intimidation by which he could be driven to sell 
the whole or part at an undervalue was lawful. 

“Now, young Brown, come, what’ll you sell me Harkaway 
for? I hear he isn’t going to start. I’ll give you five shillings 
30 for him,” begins the boy who had opened the ticket. Tom, 
remembering his good deed, and moreover in his forlorn state 
wishing to make a friend, is about to accept the offer, when 
another cries out, “I’ll give you seven shillings.” Tom hesi- 
tated, and looked from one to the other. 

35 “No, no!” said Flashman, pushing in, “leave me to deal 
with him; we’ll draw lots for it afterwards. Now, sir, you 
know me — you’ll sell Harkaway to us for five shillings, or 
you’ll repent it.” 

“I won’t sell a bit of him,” answered Tom, shortly. 

40 “You hear that now 1” said Flashman, turning to the others. 
“ He’s the coxiest young blackguard in the house — I always 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


127 


told you so. We're to have all the trouble and risk of getting 
up the lotteries for the benefit of such fellows as he.” 

Flashman forgets to explain what risk they ran, but he 
speaks to willing ears. Gambling makes boys selfish and cruel 
as well as men. ^ 

_ ‘‘ That's true, — we always draw blanks,'' cried one. “ Now, 
sir, you shall sell half, at any rate.'' 

“I won't,'' said Tom, flushing up to his hair, and lumping 
them all in his mind with his sworn enemy. 

‘‘ Very well then, let's roast him,'' cried Flashman, and lo 
catches hold of Tom by the collar; one or two boys hesitate, 
but the rest join in. East seizes Tom's arm and tries to pull 
him away, but is knocked back by one of the boys, and Tom 
is dragged along struggling. His shoulders are pushed against 
the mantelpiece, and he is held by main force before the fire, 15 
Flashman drawing his trousers tight by way of extra torture. 
Poor East, in more pain even than Tom, suddenly thinks of 
Diggs, and darts off to find him. “Will you sell now for ten 
shillings?” says one boy who is relenting. 

Tom only answers by groans and struggles. 20 

“I say, Flashey, he has had enough,” says the same boy, 
dropping the arm he holds. 

“ No, no, another turn'll do it,” answers Flashman. Poor 
Tom is done already, turns deadly pale, and his head falls 
forward on his breast, just as Diggs, in frantic excitement, 25 
rushes into the Hall with East at his heels. 

“You cowardly brutes!” is all he can say, as he catches 
Tom from them and supports him to the Hall table. “Good 
God ! he's dying. Here, get some cold water — run for the 
housekeeper.” 30 

Flashman and one or two others slink away; the rest, 
ashamed and sorry, bend over Tom or run for water, while 
East darts off for the housekeeper. Water comes, and they 
throw it on his hands and face, and he begins to come to. 
“Mother!” — the words came feebly and slowly- — “it's very 35 
cold to-night.” Poor old Diggs is blubbering like a child. 
“Where am I?” goes on Tom, opening his eyes. “Ah! I 
remember now; ” and he shut his eyes again and groaned. 

“I say,” is whispered, “we can't do any good, and the house- 
keeper will be here in a minute ; ” and all but one steal away; he 4 ° 
stays with Diggs, silent and sorrowful, and fans Tom's face. 


128 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


The housekeeper comes in with strong salts, and Tom soon 
recovers enough to sit up. There is a smell of burning; she 
examines his clothes, and looks up inquiringly. The boys 
are silent. 

5 ‘‘How did he come so?” No answer. 

“There’s been some bad work here,” she adds, looking very 
serious, “and I shall speak to the Doctor about it.” Still 
no answer. 

“Hadn’t we better carry him to the sick-room?” suggests 
lo Diggs. 

“Oh, I can walk now,” says Tom, and, supported by East 
and the housekeeper, goes to the sick-room. The boy who 
held his ground is soon amongst the rest, who are all in fear 
of their lives. “ Did he peach ? ” “ Does she know about it ? ” 

15 “Not a word — he’s a staunch little fellow.” And pausing 
a moment he adds, “I’m sick of this work; what brutes we’ve 
been!” 

Meantime Tom is stretched on the sofa in the housekeeper’s 
room, with East by his side while she gets wine and water 
20 and other restoratives. 

“Are you much hurt, dear old boy?” whispers East. 

“ Only the back of my legs,” answers Tom. They are indeed 
badly scorched, and part of his trousers burnt through. But 
soon he is in bed, with cold bandages. At first he feels broken, 
25 and thinks of writing home and getting taken away; and the 
verse of a hymn he had learned years ago sings through his 
head, and he goes to sleep, murmuring — 

“Where the wicked cease from troubling. 

And the weary are at rest.” 

30 But after a sound night’s rest, the old boy-spirit comes back 
again. East comes in reporting that the whole house is with 
him, and he forgets everything, except their old resolve never 
to be beaten by that bully Flashman. 

Not a word could the housekeeper extract from either of them, 
35 and though the Doctor knew all that she knew that morning, 
he never knew any more. 

I trust and believe that such scenes are not possible now at 
school, and that lotteries and betting-books have gone out I 
but I am writing of schools as they were in our time, and must 
40 give the evil with the good. 


CHAPTER IX 


A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 


“Wherein I [speak] of most disastrous chances, 

Of moviiig accidents by flood and field, 

Of hair-breadth ’scapes.” 

— Shakespeare; Othello, I. 3, 134-136. 

When Tom came back into school after a couple of days in 
the sick-room, he found matters much changed for the better, 
as East had led him to expect. Flashman’s brutality had dis- 
gusted most even of his intimate friends, and his cowardice 
had once more been made plain to the house; for Diggs had 5 
encountered him on the morning after the lottery, and after 
high words on both sides had struck him, and the blow was 
not returned. However, Flashey was not unused to this sort 
of thing, and had lived through as awkward affairs before, 
and, as Diggs had said, fed and toadied himself back into 10 
favour again. Two or three of the boys who had helped to 
roast Tom came up and begged his pardon, and thanked him 
for not telling anything. Morgan sent for him, and was in- 
clined to take the matter up warmly, but Tom begged him not 
to do it; to which he agreed, on Tom’s promising to come to 15 
him at once in future — a promise which I regret to say he 
didn’t keep. Tom kept Harkaway all to himself, and won 
the second prize in the lottery, some thirty shillings, which he 
and East contrived to spend in about three days in the pur- 
chase of pictures for their study, two new bats and a cricket 20 
ball, all the best that could be got, and a supper of sausages, 
kidneys, and beefsteak pies to all the rebels. Light come, 
light go; they wouldn’t have been comfortable with money 
in their pockets in the middle of the half. 

The embers of Flashman’s wrath, however, w^ere still smoul- 25 

129 


K 


130 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


dering, and burst out every now and then in sly blows and 
taunts, and they both felt that they hadn’t quite done with 
him yet. It wasn’t long, however, before the last act of that 
drama came, and with it the end of bullying for Tom and East 
5 at Rugby. They now often stole out into the Hall at nights, 
incited thereto, partly by the hope of finding Diggs there and 
having a talk with him, partly by the excitement of doing 
something which was against rules ; for, sad to say, both of our 
youngsters, since their loss of character for steadiness in their 
10 form, had got into the habit of doing things which were for- 
bidden, as a matter of adventure; just in the same w'ay, I 
should fancy, as men fall into smuggling, and for the same sort 
of reasons. Thoughtlessness in the first place. It never 
occurred to them to consider why such and such rules were 
15 laid down; the reason was nothing to them, and they only 
looked upon rules as a sort of challenge from the rule-makers, 
which it would be rather bad pluck in them not to accept; 
and then again, in the lower parts of the school they hadn’t 
enough to do. The work of the form they could manage to 
20 get through pretty easily, keeping a good enough place to get 
their regular yearly remove; and not having much ambition 
beyond this, their whole superfluous steam was available for 
games and scrapes. Now, one rule of the house which it was 
a daily pleasure of all such boys to break, was that after supper 
25 all fags, except the three on duty in the passages, should remain 
in their own studies until nine o’clock; and if caught about 
the passages or Hall, or in one another’s studies, they were 
liable to punishments or caning. The rule was stricter than 
its observance; for most of the sixth spent their evenings in 
30 the fifth-form room, where the library was and the lessons 
were learnt in common. Every now and then, however, a 
praepostor would be seized with a fit of district visiting, and 
would make a tour of the passages and Hall, and the fags’ 
studies. Then, if the owner were entertaining a friend or two, 
35 the first kick at the door and ominous “Open here” had the 
effect of the shadow of a hawk over a chicken-yard ; every one 
cut to cover — one small boy diving under the sofa, another 
under the table, while the owner would hastily pull down a 
book or two and open them, and cry out in a meek voice, 
40 “Hullo, who’s there?” casting an anxious eye round, to see 
that no protruding leg or elbow could betray the hidden boys. 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


131 


“Open, sir, directly; it’s Snooks.” “Oh, I’m very sorry; 

I didn’t know it was you, Snooks;” and then with well-feigned 
zeal the door would be opened, young hopeful praying that 
that beast Snooks mightn’t have heard the scuffle caused by 
his coming. If a study was empty, Snooks proceeded to draw 5 
the passages and Hall to find the truants. 

Well, one evening, in forbidden hours, Tom and East were 
in the Hall. They occupied the seats before the fire nearest 
the door, while Diggs sprawled as usual before the further fire. 
He was busy with a copy of verses, and East and Tom were 10 
chatting together in whispers by the light of the fire, and splic- 
ing a favourite old fives’-bat which had sprung. Presently 
a step came down the bottom passage; they listened a mo- 
ment, assured themselves that it wasn’t a praepostor, and then 
went on with their work, and the door swung open, and in 15 
walked Flashman. He didn’t see Diggs, and thought it a 
good chance to keep his hand in ; and as the boys didn’t move 
for him, struck one of them, to make them get out of his way. 

“What’s that for?” growled the assaulted one. 

“Because I choose. You’ve no business here; go to your 20 
study.” 

“You can’t send us.” 

“Can’t I? Then I’ll thrash you if you stay,” said Flash- 
man, savagely. 

“I say, you two,” said Diggs, from the end of the Hall, 25 
rousing up and resting himself on his elbow, “you’ll never 
get rid of that fellow till you lick him. Go in at him, both of 
you — I’ll see fair play.” 

Flashman was taken aback, and retreated two steps. East 
looked at Tom. “Shall we try?” said he. “Yes,” said Tom, 30 
desperately. So the two advanced on Flashman, with clenched 
fists and beating hearts. They were about up to his shoulder, 
but tough boys of their age, and in perfect training; while 
he, though strong and big, was in poor condition from hfe 
monstrous habits of stuffing and want of exercise. Coward 35 
as he was, however, Flashman couldn’t swallow such an insult 
as this; besides, he was confident of having easy work; and 
so faced the boys, saying, “ You impudent young blackguards !” 

— Before he could finish his abuse they rushed in on him, and 
began pummelling at all of him which they could reach. He 40 
hit out wildly and savagely, but the full force of his blows 


132 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


didn’t tell, they were too near him. It was long odds, though, 
in point of strength, and in another minute Tom went spinning 
backwards over a form, and Flashman turned to demolish 
East, with a savage grin. But now Diggs jumped down from 
5 the table on which he had seated himself. Stop there,” 
shouted he, ‘‘the round’s over — half-minute time allowed.” 

“ What the is it to you? ” faltered Flashman, who began 

to lose heart. 

“I’m going to see fair, I tell you,” said Diggs with a grin, 
loand snapping his great red fingers; “’tain’t fair for you to be 
fighting one of them at a time. Are you ready. Brown? 
Time’s up.” 

The small boys rushed in again. Closing they saw was their 
best chance, and Flashman was wilder and more flurried than 
15 ever ; he caught East by the throat, and tried to force him back 
on the iron-bound table; Tom grasped his waist, and, remem- 
bering the old throw he had learned in the Vale from Harry 
Winburn, crooked his leg inside Flashman’s, and threw his 
whole weight forward. The three tottered for a moment, and 
20 then over they went on to the floor, Flashman striking his 
head against a form® in the. Hall. 

The two youngsters sprang to their legs, but he lay there 
still. They began to be frightened. Tom stooped down, and 
then cried out, scared out of his wits, “ He’s bleeding awfully; 
25 come here. East ! Diggs, — he’s dying !” 

“Not he,” said Diggs, getting leisurely off the table; “it’s 
all sham — he’s only afraid to fight it out.” 

East was as frightened as Tom. Diggs lifted Flashman’s 
head, and he groaned. 

30 “What’s the matter?” shouted Diggs. 

“My skull’s fractured,” sobbed Flashman. 

“Oh, let me run for the housekeeper,” cried Tom. “What 
shall we do?” 

“Fiddlesticks! it’s nothing but the skin broken,” said the 
35 relentless Diggs, feeling his head. “Cold water and a bit of 
rag ’s all he’ll want.” 

“Let me go,” said Flashman, surlily, sitting up; “I don’t 
want your help.” 

“We’re really very sorry,” began East. 

40 “Hang your sorrow,” answered Flashman, holding his 
handkerchief to the place; “you shall pay for this, I can tell 
you, both of you.” And he walked out of the Hall. 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


133 


“He can’t be very bad,” said Tom with a deep sigh, much 
relieved to see his enemy march so well. 

“Not he,” said Diggs, “and you’ll see you won’t be troubled 
with him any more. But, I say, your head’s broken too — 
your collar is covered with blood.” 5 

“Is it though?” said Tom, putting up his hand; “I didn’t 
know it.” 

“Well, mop it up, or you’ll have your jacket spoilt. And 
you have got a nasty eye. Scud; you’d better go and bathe 
it well in cold water.” lo 

“Cheap enough too, if we’ve done with our old friend 
Flashey,” said East, as they made off upstairs to bathe their 
wounds. 

They had done with Flashman in one sense, for he never 
laid finger on either of them again; but whatever harm a 15 
spiteful heart and venomous tongue could do them, he took 
care should be done. Only throw dirt enough, and some of it 
is sure to stick ; and so it was with the fifth-form and the bigger 
boys in general, with whom he associated more or less, and 
they not at all. Flashman managed to get Tom and East 20 
into disfavour, which did not wear off for some time after the 
author of it had disappeared from the School world. This 
event, much prayed for by the small fry in general, took place 
a few months after the above encounter. One fine summer 
evening Flashman had been regaling himself on gin-punch, 25 
at Brownsover; and having exceeded his usual limits, started 
home uproarious. He fell in with a friend or two coming back 
from bathing, proposed a glass of beer, to which they assented, 
the weather being hot, and they thirsty souls, and unaware 
of the quantity of drink which Flashman had already on board. 30 
The short result was, that Flashey became beastly drunk: 
they tried to get him along, but couldn’t; so they chartered 
a hurdle and two men to carry him. One of the masters came 
upon them, and they naturally enough fled. The flight of . 
the rest raised the master’s suspicions, and the good angel of 35 
the fags incited him to examine the freight, and, after exami- 
nation, to convoy the hurdle himself up to the Schoolhouse; 
and the Doctor, who had long had his eye on Flashman, ar- 
ranged for his withdrawal next morning. 

The evil that men, and boys too, do, lives after them : Flash- 40 
man was gone, but our boys, as hinted above, still felt the 


134 


TOM BROWJV’S SCHOOL DAYS 


effects of his hate. Besides, they had been the movers of the 
strike against unlawful fagging. The cause was righteous — 
the result had been triumphant to a great extent ; but the best 
of the fifth, even those who had never fagged the small boys, 
5 or had given up the practice cheerfully, couldn’t help feeling 
a small grudge against the first rebels. After all, their form 
had been dehed — on just grounds, no doubt; so just, indeed, 
that they had at once acknowledged the wrong, and remained 
passive in the strife; had they sided with Flashman and his 
lo set, the rebels must have given way at once. They couldn’t 
help, on the whole, being glad that they had so acted, and that 
the resistance had been successful against such of their own 
form as had shown fight; they felt that law and order had 
gained thereby, but the ringleaders they couldn’t quite pardon 
15 at once. “ Confoundedly coxy those young rascals will get, 
if we don’t mind,” was the general feeling. 

So it is, and must be always, my dear boys. If the angel 
Gabriel were to come down from Heaven, and head a successful 
rise against the most abominable and unrighteous vested 
20 interest which this poor old world groans under, he would most 
certainly lose his character for many years, probably for cen- 
turies, not only with upholders of said vested interest, but 
with the respectable mass of the people whom he had delivered. 
They wouldn’t ask him to dinner, or let their names appear 
25 with his in the papers ; they would be very careful how they 
spoke of him in the Palaver,® or at their clubs. What can we 
expect, then, when we have only poor gallant blundering men 
like Kossuth,® Garibaldi,® Mazzini,® and righteous causes which 
do not triumph in their hands ; men who have holes enough in 
30 their armour, God knows, easy to be hit by respectabilities 
sitting in their lounging chairs, and having large balances at 
their bankers’? But you are brave gallant boys, who hate 
easy-chairs, and have no balances or bankers. You only want 
to liave your heads set straight to take the right side; so bear 
35 in mind that majorities, especially respectable ones, are nine 
times out of ten in the wrong ; and that if you see a man or 
boy striving earnestly on the weak side, however wrong-headed 
or blundering he may be, you are not to go and join the cry 
against him. If you can’t join him and help him, and make 
40 him wiser, at any rate remember that he has found something 
in the world which he Avill fight and suffer for, which is just 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


135 


what you have got to do for yourselves; and so think and 
speak of him tenderly. 

So East and Tom, the Tadpole, and one or two more, became 
a sort of young Ishmaelites, ° their hands against every one, 
and every one’s hand against them. It has been already 5 
told how they got to war with the masters and the fifth-form, 
and with the sixth it was much the same. They saw the 
praepostors cowed by or joining with the fifth and shirking their 
own duties; so they didn’t respect them, and rendered no 
willing obedience. It had been one thing to clean out studies 10 
for sons of heroes like old Brooke, but was quite another to 
do the like for Snooks and Green, who had never faced a good 
scrummage at football, and couldn’t keep the passages in 
order at night. So they only slurred through their fagging 
just well enough to escape a licking, and not always that, and 15 
got the character of sulky, unwilling fags. In the fifth-form 
room, after supper, when such matters were often discussed 
and arranged, their names were forever coming up. 

“I say. Green,” Snooks began one night, “isn’t that new boy, 
Harrison, your fag?” 20 

“Yes; why?” 

“Oh, I know something of him at home, and should like 
to excuse him. Will you swop?” 

“Who will you give me?” 

“ Well, let’s see, there’s Willis, Johnson — No, that won’t 25 
do. Yes, I have it — there’s young East, I’ll give you him.” 

“Don’t you wish you may get it?” replied Green. “I’ll 
tel] you what I’ll do — I’ll give you two for Willis, if you like.” 

“Who then?” asks Snooks. 

“ Hall and Brown.” 30 

“Wouldn’t have ’em at a gift.” 

“Better than East, though; for they ain’t quite so sharp,” 
said Green, getting up and leaning his back against the mantel- 
piece — he wasn’t a bad fellow, and couldn’t help not being 
able to put down the unruly fifth-form. His eye twinkled as 35 
he went on, “Did I ever tell you how the young vagabond 
sold me last half?” 

“ No — how?” 

“Well, he never half cleaned my study out, only just stuck 
the candlesticks in the cupboard, and swept the crumbs on to 40 
the floor. So at last I was mortal angry, and had him up, 


136 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


made him go through the whole performance under my eyes: 
the dust the young scamp made nearly choked me, and showed 
that he hadn’t swept the carpet before. Well, when it was 
all finished, ‘Now, young gentleman,’ says I, ‘mind, I expect 
5 this to be done every morning, floor swept, table-cloth taken 
off and shaken, and everything dusted.’ ‘Very well,’ grunts 
he. Not a bit of it though — I was quite sure in a day or two 
that he never took the table-cloth off even. So I laid a trap 
for him: I tore up some paper and put half-a-dozen bits on 
lo my table one night, and the cloth over them, as usual. Next 
morning after breakfast up I came, pulled off the cloth, and 
sure enough there was the paper, which fluttered down on to 
the floor. I was in a towering rage. ‘ I’ve got you now,’ 
thought I, and sent for him, while I got out my cane. Up 
IS he came as cool as you please, with his hands in his pockets. 
‘Didn’t I tell you to shake my table-cloth every morning?’ 
roared I. ‘Yes,’ says he. ‘Did you do it this morning?’ 
‘Yes.’ ‘You young liar! I put these pieces of paper on the 
table last night, and if you’d taken the table-cloth off you’d 
20 have seen them, so I’m going to give you a good licking.’ 
Then my youngster takes one hand out of his pocket, and just 
stoops down and picks up two of the bits of paper, and holds 
them out to me. There was written on each, in great round 
text, ‘ Harry East, his mark.’ The young rogue had found my 
25 trap out, taken away my paper, and put some of his there, 
every bit ear-marked. I’d a great mind to lick him for his 
impudence; but, after all, one has no right to be laying traps, 
so I didn’t. Of course I was at his mercy till the end of the 
half, and, in his weeks, my study was so frowsy, I couldn’t 
30 sit in it.” 

“They spoil one’s things so, too,” chimed in a third boy. 
“ Hall and Brown were night-fags last week : I called fag, and 
gave them my candlesticks to clean; away they went, and 
didn’t appear again. When they’d had time enough to clean 
35 them three times over, I went out to look after them. They 
weren’t in the passages, so down I went into the Hall, where 
I heard music, and there I found them sitting on the table, 
listening to Johnson, who was playing the flute, and my candle- 
sticks stuck between the bars well into the fire, red-hot, clean 
40 spoiled ; they’ve never stood straight since, and I must get 
some more. However, I gave them both a good licking, that’s 
one comfort.” 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


137 


Such were the sort of scrapes they were always getting into ; 
and so, partly by their own faults, partly from circumstances, 
partly from the faults of others, they found themselves out- 
laws, ticket-of -leave men, or what you will in that line: in 
short, dangerous parties, and lived the sort of hand-to-mouth, 5 
wild, reckless life which such parties generally have to put up 
with. Nevertheless, they never quite lost favour with young 
Brooke, who was now the cock of the house, and just getting 
into the sixth, and Diggs stuck to them like a man, and gave 
them store of good advice, by which they never in the least 10 
profited. 

And even after the house mended, and law and order had 
been restored, which soon happened after young Brooke and 
Diggs got into the sixth, they couldn’t easily or at once return 
into the paths of steadiness, and many of the old wild out-of- 15 
bounds habits stuck to them as firmly as ever. While they 
had been quite little boys, the scrapes they got into in the School 
hadn’t much mattered to any one; but now they were in the 
upper school, all wrong-doers from which were sent up straight 
to the Doctor at once : so they began to come under his notice ; 20 
and as they were a sort of leaders in a small way amongst their 
own contemporaries, his eye, which v as everywhere, was upon 
them. 

It was a toss-up whether they turned out well or ill, and so 
they were just the boys who caused most anxiety to such a 25 
master. You have been told of the first occasion on which 
they were sent up to the Doctor, and the remembrance of it 
was so pleasant that they had much less fear of him than most 
boys of their standing had. “It’s all his look,” Tom used 
to say to East, “that frightens fellows: don’t you remember, 30 
he never said anything to us my first half-year, for being an 
hour late for locking up?” 

The next time that Tom came before him, however, the 
interview was of a very different kind. It happened just about 
the time at which we have now arrived, and was the first of 35 
a series of scrapes into which our hero managed now to tumble. 

The river Avon at Rugby is a slow and not very clear stream, 
in which chub, dace, roach, and other coarse fish are (or were) 
plentiful enough, together with a fair sprinkling of small jack, 
but no fish worth sixpence either for sport or food. It is, 40 
hoAvever, a capital river for bathing, as it has many nice small 


138 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


pools and several good reaches for swimming, all within about 
a mile of one another, and at an easy twenty minutes’ walk 
from the school. This mile of water is rented, or used to be 
rented, for bathing purposes, by the Trustees of the School, 

5 for the bo3^s. The footpath to Brownsover crosses the river 
by ‘Hhe Planks,” a curious old single-plank bridge, running 
for fifty or sixty yards into the flat meadows on each side of 
the river, — for in the winter there are frequent floods. Above 
the Planks were the bathing-places for the smaller boys; 
lo Sleath’s, the first bathing-place where all new boys had to 
begin, until they had proved to the bathing men (three steady 
individuals who were paid to attend daily through the summer 
to prevent accidents) that they could swim pretty decently, 
when they were allowed to go on to Anstey’s, about one hundred 
15 and fifty yards below. Here there was a hole about six feet 
deep and twelve feet across, over which the puffing urchins 
struggled to the opposite side, and thought no small beer of 
themselves for having been out of their depths. Below the 
Planks came larger and deeper holes, the first of which was 
20 Wratislaw’s, and the last Swift’s, a famous hole, ten or twelve 
feet deep in parts, and thirty yards across, from which there 
was a fine swimming reach right down to the Mill. Swift’s 
was reserved for the sixth and fifth forms, and had a spring 
board and two sets of steps: the others had one set of steps 
25 each, and were used indifferently by all the lower boys, though 
each house addicted itself more to one hole than to another. 
The Schoolhouse at this time affected Wratislaw’s hole, and 
Tom and East, who had learnt to swim like fishes, were to 
be found there as regular as the clock through the summer, 
30 always twice, and often three times a day. 

Now the boys either had, or fancied they had, a right also 
to fish at their pleasure over the whole of this part of the river, 
and would not understand that the right (if any) only extended 
to the Rugby side. As ill luck would have it, the gentleman 
35 who owned the opposite bank, after allowing it for some time 
without interference, had ordered his keepers not to let the 
boys fish on his side ; the consequence of which had been, that 
there had been first wranglings and then fights between the 
keepers and the boys; and so keen had the quarrel become, 
40 that the landlord and his keepers, after a ducking had been 
inflicted on one of the latter, and a fierce fight ensued thereon, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


139 


had been up to the great school at calling-over to identify 
the delinquents, and it was all the Doctor himself and five or 
six masters could do to keep the peace. Not even his authority 
could prevent the hissing ; and so strong was the feeling, that 
the four praepostors of the week walked up the school with 5 
their canes, shouting S-s-s-s-i-lenc-c-c-c-e at the top of their 
voices. How^ever, the chief offenders for the time were flogged 
and kept in bounds, but the victorious party had brought a 
nice hornets’ nest about their ears. The landlord was hissed 
at the School gates as he rode past, and when he charged his 10 
horse at the mob of boys, and tried to thrash them with his 
whip, was driven back by cricket-bats and wickets, and pursued 
with pebbles and fives’-balls ; while the wretched keepers’ 
lives were a burthen to them, from having to watch the waters 
so closely. 15 

The Schoolhouse boys of Tom’s standing, one and all, as 
a protest against this tyranny and cutting short of their lawful 
amusements, took to fishing in all ways, and especially by 
means of night-lines. The little tackle-maker at the bottom 
of the town would soon have made his fortune had the rage 20 
lasted, and several of the barbers began to lay in fishing-tackle. 
The boys had this great advantage over their enemies, that 
they spent a large portion of the day in nature’s garb by the 
river side, and so, when tired of swimming, would get out on 
the other side and fish, or set night-lines, till the keeper hove 25 
in sight, and then plunge in and swim back and mix with the 
other bathers, and the keepers were too wise to follow across 
the stream.- 

While things were in this state, one day, Tom and three or 
four others were bathing at Wratislaw’s, and had, as a matter 30 
of course, been taking up and resetting night-lines. They 
had all left the water, and were sitting or standing about at 
their toilets, in all costumes from a shirt upwards, when they 
were aware of a man in a velveteen shooting-coat approaching 
from the other side. He was a new keeper, so they didn’t 35 
recognize or notice him, till he pulled up right opposite, and 
began : — 

“ I see’d some of you young gentlemen over this side a-fish- 
ing just now.” 

‘'Hullo, wdio are you? what business is that of yours, old 40 
Velveteens?” 


140 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“I’m the new under-keeper, and master’s told me to keep 
a sharp lookout on all o’ you young chaps. And I tells ’ee 
I means business, and you’d better keep on your own side, or 
we shall fall out.” 

5 “Well, that’s right. Velveteens — speak out, and let’s know 
your mind at once.” 

“Look here, old boy,” cried East, holding up a miserable 
coarse fish or two and a small jack, “would you like to smell 
’em and see which bank they lived under?” 
lo “I’ll give you a bit of advice, keeper,” shouted Tom, who 
was sitting in his shirt paddling with his feet in the river; 
“you’d better go down there to Swift’s, where the big boys 
are; they’re beggars at setting lines, and ’ll put you up to a 
wrinkle or two for catching the five-pounders.” Tom was 
15 nearest to the keeper, and that officer, who was getting angry 
at the chaff, fixed his eyes on our hero, as if to take a note of 
him for future use. Tom returned his gaze with a steady stare, 
and then broke into a laugh and struck into the middle of a 
favourite Schoolhouse song — 

20 “ As I and my companions 

Were setting of a snare. 

The gamekeeper was watching us ; 

For him we did not care : 

For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, 

25 And jump out anywhere. 

For it’s my delight of a likely night, 

In the season of the year.” 

The chorus was taken up by the other boys with shouts of 
laughter, and the keeper turned away with a grunt, but evi- 
sodently bent on mischief. The boys thought no more of the 
matter. 

But now came on the May-fly season ; the soft hazy summer 
weather lay sleepily along the rich meadows by Avon side, and 
the green and gray flies flickered with their graceful lazy up- 
35 and-down flight over the reeds and the water and the meadows, 
in myriads upon myriads. The May-flies must surely be the 
lotus-eaters ° of the ephemerae; the happiest, laziest, careless- 
est fly that dances and dreams out his few hours of sunshiny 
life by English rivers. 

40 Every little pitiful coarse fish in the Avon was on the alert 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


141 


for the flies, and gorging his Avretched carcass with hundreds 
daily, the gluttonous rogues! and every lover of the gentle 
craft was out to avenge the poor May-flies. 

So, one fine Thursday afternoon, Tom having borrow^ed East’s 
new rod, started by himself to the river. He fished for some 5 
time with small success, not a fish would rise at him; but, as 
he prowled along the bank, he was presently aware of mighty 
ones feeding in a pool on the opposite side, under the shade of a 
huge willow-tree. The stream was deep here, but some fifty 
yards below was a shallow, for which he made off hot-foot; 10 
and forgetting landlords, keepers, solemn prohibitions of the 
Doctor, and everything else, pulled up his trousers, plunged 
across, and in three minutes was creeping along on all fours 
towards the clump of willows. 

It isn’t often that great chub, or any other coarse fish, are 15 
in earnest about anything, but just then they were thoroughly 
bent on feeding, and in half-an-hour Master Tom had deposited 
three thumping fellows at the foot of the giant willow. As 
he was baiting for a fourth pounder, and just going to throw 
in again, he became aware of a man coming up the bank not 20 
one hundred yards off. Another look told him that it was the 
under-keeper. Could he reach the shallow before him? No, 
not carrying his rod. Nothing for it but the tree; so Tom 
laid his bones to it, shinning up as fast as he could, and dragging 
up his rod after him. He had just time to reach and crouch 25 
along upon a huge branch some ten feet up, which stretched 
out over the river, when the keeper arrived at the clump. 
Tom’s heart beat fast as he came under the tree; two steps 
more and he would have passed, when, as ill-luck would have 
it, the gleam on the scales of the dead fish caught his eye, and 30 
he made a dead point at the foot of the tree. He picked up 
the fish one by one ; his eye and touch told him that they had 
been alive and feeding within the hour. Tom crouched lower 
along the branch, and heard the keeper beating the clump. 
^‘If I could only get the rod hidden,” thought he, and began 35 
gently shifting it to get it alongside him; “willow-trees don’t 
throw out straight hickory shoots twelve feet long, with no 
leaves, worse luck.” Alas ! the keeper catches the rustle, 
and then a sight of the rod, and then of Tom’s hand and arm. 

“Oh, be up ther’ be ’ee?” says he, running under the tree. 4Q 
“Now you come down this minute.” 


142 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


“Tree’d at last/’ thinks Tom, making no answer, and keep- 
ing as close as possible, but working away at the rod, which 
he takes to pieces : “ I’m in for it, unless I can starve him out.” 
And then he begins to meditate getting along the branch for a 
5 plunge, and a scramble to the other side ; but the small branches 
are so thick, and the opposite bank so difficult, that the keeper 
will have lots of time to get round by the ford before he can 
get out, so he gives that up. And now he hears the keeper 
beginning to scramble up the trunk. That will never do; so 
lo he scrambles himself back to where his branch joins the trunk, 
and stands with lifted rod. 

“Hullo, Velveteens, mind your fingers if you come any 
higher.” 

The keeper stops and looks up, and then with a grin says, 
15 “Oh ! be you, be it, young measter? Well, here’s luck. Now 
I tells ’ee to come down at once, and ’t’ll be best for ’ee.” 

“Thank ’ee. Velveteens, I’m very comfortable,” said Tom, 
shortening the rod in his hand, and preparing for battle. 

“Werry well, please yourself,” says the keeper, descending 
20 however to the ground again, and taking his seat on the bank; 
“I bean’t in no, hurry, so you med take your time. I’ll larn 
’ee to gee honest folk names afore I’ve done with ’ee.” 

“My luck as usual,” thinks Tom; “what a fool I w'as to 
give him a black. If I’d called him ‘keeper’ now, I might get 
25 off. The return match is all his way.” 

The keeper quietly proceeded to take out his pipe, fill, and 
light it, keeping an eye on Tom, who now sat disconsolately 
across the branch, looking at keeper — a pitiful sight for men 
and fishes. The more he thought of it the less he liked it. 
30 “It must be getting near second calling-over,” thinks he. 
Keeper smokes on stolidly. “If he takes me up, I shall be 
flogged safe enough. I can’t sit here all night. Wonder if 
he’ll rise at silver.” 

“I say, keeper,” said he, meekly, “let me go for two bob?” 
35 “Not for twenty neither,” grunts his persecutor. 

And so they sat on till long past second calling-over, and 
the sun came slanting in through the willow-branches, and 
telling of locking-up near at hand. 

“I’m coming down, keeper,” said Tom at last with a sigh, 
40 fairly tired out. “Now what are you going to do?” 

“Walk ’ee up to School, and give ’ee over to the Doctor, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


143 


them’s my orders,” says Velveteens, knocking the ashes out 
of his fourth pipe, and standing up and shaking himself. 

“Very good,” said Tom; “but hands off, you know. I’ll 
go with you quietly, so no collaring or that sort of thing.” 

Keeper looked at him a minute — “Werry good,” said he 5 
at last; and so Tom descended, and wended his way drearily 
by the side of the keeper up to the Schoolhouse, where they 
arrived just at locking-up. As they passed the School gates, 
the Tadpole and several others who were standing there caught 
the state of things, and rushed out, crying, “ Rescue !” but Tom lo 
shook his head, so they only followed to the Doctor’s gate, and 
went back sorely puzzled. 

How changed and stern the Doctor seemed from the last 
time that Tom was up there, as the keeper told the story, not 
omitting to state how Tom had called him blackguard names. 15 
“Indeed, sir,” broke in the culprit, “it was only Velveteens,” 
The Doctor only asked one question. 

“You know the rule about the banks. Brown?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then wait for me to-morrow, after first lesson.” 20 

“I thought so,” muttered Tom. 

“And about the rod, sir?” went on the keeper. “Master’s 
told we as we might have all the rods — ” 

“Oh, please, sir,” broke in Tom, “the rod isn’t mine.” The 
Doctor looked puzzled ; but the keeper, who was a good-hearted 25 
fellow, and melted at Tom’s evident distress, gave up his claim. 
Tom was flogged next morning, and a few days afterwards met 
Velveteens, and presented him with half-a-crown for giving 
up the rod claim, and they became sworn friends ; and I regret 
to say that Tom had many more fish from under the willow 30 
that May-fly season, and was never caught again by Velveteens. 

It wasn’t three weeks before Tom, and now East by his side, 
was again in the awful presence. This time, however, the 
Doctor was not so terrible. A few days before, they had been 
fagged at fives to fetch the balls that went off the Court. 35 
While standing watching the game, they saw five or six nearly 
new balls hit on the top of the School. “I say, Tom,” said 
East, when they were dismissed, “couldn’t we get those balls 
somehow?” 

“Let’s try, anyhow.” 40 

So they reconnoitred the walls carefully, borrowed a coal- 


144 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


hammer from old Stumps, bought some big nails, and after one 
or two attempts, scaled the schools, and possessed themselves 
of huge quantities of fives’-balls. The place pleased them so 
much that they spent all their spare time there, scratching and 
5 cutting their names on the top of every tower; and at last, 
having exhausted all other places, finished up with inscribing 
H. East, T. Brown, on the minute-hand of the great clock; 
in the doing of which, they held the minute-hand, and dis- 
turbed the clock’s economy. So next morning, when masters 
loand boys came trooping down to prayers, and entered the 
quadrangle, the injured minute-hand was indicating three min- 
utes to the hour. They all pulled up, and took their time. 
When the hour struck, doors were closed, and half the school 
late. Thomas being set to make inquiry, discovers their 
15 names on the minute-hand, and reports accordingly; and they 
are sent for, a knot of their friends making derisive and 
pantomimic allusions to what their fate will be as they walk 
off. 

But the Doctor, after hearing their story, doesn’t make 
20 much of it, and only gives them thirty lines of Homer to learn 
by heart, and a lecture on the likelihood of such exploits ending 
in broken bones. 

Alas ! almost the next day was one of the great fairs in the 
town; and as several rows and other disagreeable accidents 
25 had of late taken place on these occasions, the Doctor gives 
out, after prayers in the morning, that no boy is to go down 
into the town. Wherefore East and Tom, for no earthly 
pleasure except that of doing what they are told not to do, 
start away, after second lesson, and making a short circuit 
30 through the fields, strike a back lane which leads into the 
town, go down it, and run plump upon one of the masters as 
they emerge into the High Street. The master in question, 
though a very clever, is not a righteous man; he has already 
caught several of his own pupils, and gives them lines to learn, 
35 while he sends East and Tom, who are not his pupils, up to the 
Doctor; who, on learning that they had been at prayers in the 
morning, flogs them soundly. 

The flogging did them no good at the time, for the injustice 
of their captor was rankling in their minds; but it was just 
40 the e.id of the half, and on the next evening but one Thomas 
knocks at their door, and says the Doctor wants to see them. 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


145 


They look at one another in silent dismay. What can it be 
now? Which of their countless wrong-doings can he have 
heard of officially? However, it’s no use delaying, so up they 
go to the study. There they find the Doctor, not angry, but 
very grave. “ He has sent for them to speak very seriously S 
before they go home. They have each been flogged several 
times in the half-year for direct and wilful breaches of, rules. 
This cannot go on. They are doing no good to themselves 
or others, and now they are getting up in the School, and have 
influence. They seem to think that rules are made capriciously, lo 
and for the pleasure of the masters ; but this is not so, they are 
made for the good of the whole School, and must and shall be 
obeyed. Those who thoughtlessly or wilfully break them will 
not be allowed to stay at the School. He should be sorry if 
they had to leave, as the School might do them both much 15 
good, and wishes them to think very seriously in the holidays 
over what he has said. Good-night.” 

And so the two hurry off horribly scared : the idea of having 
to leave had never crossed their minds, and is quite unbearable. 

As they go out, they meet at the door old Holmes, a sturdy, 20 
cheery praepostor of another house, who goes in to the Doctor; 
and they hear his genial hearty greeting of the newcomer, 
so different to their own reception, as the door closes, and return 
to their study with heavy hearts, and tremendous resolves to 
break no more rules. 25 

Five minutes afterwards the master of their form, a late 
arrival and a model young master, knocks at the Doctor’s 
study-door. “Come in !” and as he enters the Doctor goes on, 
to Holmes — “ you see, I do not know anything of the case 
officially, and if I take any notice of it at all, 1 must publicly 30 
expel the boy. I don’t wish to do that, for I think there is some 
good in him. There’s nothing for it but a good sound thrash- 
ing.” He paused to shake hands with the master, which 
Holmes does also, and then prepares to leave. 

“I understand. Good night, sir.” 35 

“Good night. Holmes. And remember,” added the Doctor, 
emphasizing the words, “a good sound thrashing before the 
whole house.” 

The door closed on Holmes; and the Doctor, in answer to 
the puzzled look of his lieutenant, explained shortly. “ A 4 ° 
gross case of bullying. Wharton, the head of the house, is 

L 


146 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


a very good fellow, but slight and weak, and severe physical 
pain is the only way to deal with such a case ; so I have asked 
Holmes to take it up. He is very careful and trustworthy, and 
has plenty of strength. I wish all the sixth had as much. 

5 We must have it here, if we are to keep order at all.’' 

Now I don’t want any wiseacres to read this book; but if 
they should, of course they will prick up their long ears, and 
howl, or rather bray, at the above story. Very good, I don’t 
object ; but what I have to add for you boys is this, that Holmes 
lo called a levy of his house after breakfast next morning, made 
them a speech on the case of bullying in question, and then gave 
the bully a “good sound thrashing”; and that years after- 
wards, that boy sought out Holmes, and thanked him, saying 
it had been the kindest act which had ever been done upon 
15 him, and the turning-point in his character; and a very good 
fellow he became, and a credit to his School. 

After some other talk between them, the Doctor said, “I 
want to speak to you about two boys in your form. East and 
Brown; 1 have just been speaking to them. What do you 
20 think of them?” 

“Well, they are not hard workers, and very thoughtless 
and full of spirits — but I can’t help liking them. I think 
they are sound good fellows at the bottom.” 

“I’m glad of it. I think so too. But they make me very 
2$ uneasy. They are taking the lead a good deal amongst the 
fags in my house, for they are very active, bold fellows. I 
should be sorry to lose them, but I shan’t let them stay if I 
don’t see them gaining character and manliness. In another 
year they may do great harm to all the younger boys.” 

30 “Oh, I hope you won’t send them away,” pleaded their 
master. 

“ Not if I can help it. But now I never feel sure, after any 
half-holiday, that I shan’t have to flog one of them next morn- 
ing, for some foolish, thoughtless scrape. I quite dread seeing 
35 either of them.” 

They were both silent for a minute. Presently the Doctor 
began again : — 

“They don’t feel that they have any duty or work to do in 
the school, and how is one to make them feel it?” 

40 “I think if either of them had some little boy to take care 
of, it would steady them. Brown is the most reckless of the 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


147 


two, I should say; East wouldn't get into so many scrapes 
without him." 

''Well," said the Doctor, with something like a sigh, "I'll 
think of it." And they went on to talk of other subjects. 


PART II 


“ I [hold] it truth, with him -who sings 
To one clear harp in divers tones, 

That men may rise on stepping-stones 
Of their dead selves to higher things.” 

— Tennvson : In Memoriam. 


CHAPTER I 

HOW THE TIDE TURNED 

“ Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide. 

In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side : 

4: ^ Nc He 4: 

Then it is the brave man chooses, while the coward stands aside. 
Doubting in his abject spirit, till his Lord is crucified.” 

— Lowell : The Present Crisis. 

The turning-point in our hero’s school career had now come, 
and the manner of it was as follows. On the evening of the 
first day of the next half-year, Tom, East, and another School- 
house boy, who had just been dropped at the Spread Eagle 
5 by the old Regulator, rushed into the matron’s room in high 
spirits, such as all real boys are in when they first get back, 
however fond they may be of home. 

“Well, Mrs. Wixie,” shouted one, seizing on the methodical 
active little dark-eyed woman, who was busy stowing away 
lo the linen of the boys who had already arrived into their several 
pigeon-holes, “here we are again, you see, as jolly as ever. 
Let us help you put the things away.” 

“And, Mary,” cried another (she was called indifferently 

148 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


149 


by either name), “ who’s come back? Has the Doctor made 
old Jones leave? How many new boys are there?” 

“Am I and East to have Gray’s study? You know you 
promised to get it for us if you could,” shouted Tom. 

“And am I to sleep in Number 4 ?” roared East. 5 

“How’s old Sam, and Bogle, and Sally?” 

“Bless the boys!” cries Mary, at last getting in a word, 
“why, you’ll shake me to death. There, now do go away up 
to the housekeeper’s room and get your suppers; you know 
I haven’t time to talk — you’ll find plenty more in the house. 10 
Now, Master East, do let things alone — you ’re mixing up three 
new boys’ things.” And she rushed at East, who escaped 
round the open trunks holding up a prize. 

“Hullo, look here. Tommy,” shouted he, “here’s fun!” 
and he brandished above his head some pretty little nightcaps 15 
beautifully made and marked, the work of loving fingers in 
some distant country home. The kind mother and sisters, 
who sewed that delicate stitching with aching hearts, little 
thought of the trouble they might be bringing on that young 
head for which they were meant. The little matron was wiser, 20 
and snatched the caps from East before he could look at the 
name on them. 

“ Now, Master East, I shall be very angry if you don’t go,” 
said she; “there’s some capital cold beef and pickles upstairs, 
and I won’t have you old boys in my room first night.” 25 

“Hurrah for the pickles! Come along. Tommy; come 
along, Smith. We shall find out who the young Count is. 
I’ll be bound: I hope he’ll sleep in my room. Mary’s always 
vicious first week.” 

As the boys turned to leave the room, the matron touched 30 
Tom’s arm, and said, “Master Brown, please stop a minute, 

I want to speak to you.” 

“Very well, Mary. I’ll come in a minute. East; don’t 
finish the pickles — ” 

“Oh, Master Brown,” went on the little matron, when the 35 
rest had gone, “you’re to have Gray’s study, Mrs. Arnold says. 
And she wants you to take in this young gentleman. He’s 
a new boy, and thirteen years old, though he don’t look it. 
He’s very delicate, and has never been from home before. 
And I told Mrs. Arnold I thought you’d be kind to him, and 40 
see that they don’t bully him at first. He’s put into your 


150 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


form, and I’ve given him the bed next to yours in Number 4 ; 
so East can’t sleep there this half.” 

Tom was rather put about by this speech. He had got 
the double study which he coveted, but here were conditions 
5 attached which greatly moderated his joy. He looked across 
the room, and in the far corner of the sofa was aware of a 
slight pale boy, with large blue eyes and light fair hair, who 
seemed ready to shrink through the floor. He saw at a glance 
that the little stranger was just the boy whose first half-year 
loat a public school would be misery to himself if he were left 
alone, or constant anxiety to any one who meant to see him 
through his troubles. Tom was too honest to take in the 
youngster and then let him shift for himself; and if he took 
him as his chum instead of East, where were all his pet plans 
15 of having a bottled -beer cellar under his window, making 
night-lines and slings, and plotting expeditions to Brownsover 
Mills and Caldecott’s Spinney? East and he had made up 
their minds to get this study, and then every night from 
locking-up till ten they would be together to talk about fishing, 
20 drink bottled -beer, read Marryat’s° novels, and sort birds’ 
eggs. And this new boy would most likely never go out of 
the close, and would be afraid of wet feet, and always getting 
laughed at, and called Molly, or Jenny, or some derogatory 
feminine nickname. 

25 The matron watched him for a moment, and saw what 
was passing in his mind, and so, like a wise negotiator, threw 
in an appeal to his warm heart. ‘'Poor little fellow,” said 
she in almost a whisper, “his father’s dead, and he’s got no 
brothers. And his mamma, such a kind sweet lady, almost 
30 broke her heart at leaving him this morning ; and she said 

one of his sisters was like to die of decline, and so ” 

“Well, well,” burst in Tom, with something like a sigh at 
the effort, “I suppose I must give up East. Come along, 
young un. What’s your name? We’ll go and have some 
35 supper, and then I’ll show you our study.” 

“His name’s George Arthur,” said the matron, walking up 
to him with Tom, who grasped his little delicate hand as the 
proper preliminary to making a chum of him, and felt as if 
he could have blown him away. “I’ve had his books and 
40 things put into the study, which his mamma has had new 
papered, and the sofa covered, and new green baize curtains 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


151 


over the door” (the diplomatic matron threw this in, to show 
that the new boy was contributing largely to the partnership 
comforts). ‘^And Mrs. Arnold told me to say,” she added, 
‘‘that she should like you both to come up to tea with her. 
You know the way. Master Brown, and the things are just 5 
gone up I know.” 

Here was an announcement for Master Tom ! He was to 
go up to tea the first night, just as if he were a sixth or fifth 
form boy, and of importance in the school world, instead of 
the most reckless young scapegrace amongst the fags. He 10 
felt himself lifted on to a higher social and moral platform at 
once. Nevertheless, he couldn’t give up without a sigh the 
idea of the jolly supper in the housekeeper’s room with East 
and the rest, and a rush round to all the studies of his friends 
afterwards, to pour out the deeds and wonders of the holidays, 15 
to plot fifty plans for the coming half-year, and to gather 
news of who had left and what new boys had come, who had 
got who’s study, and where the new praepostors slept. How- 
ever, Tom consoled himself with thinking that he couldn’t 
have done all this with the new boy at his heels, and so marched 20 
off along the passages to the Doctor’s private house with his 
young charge in tow, in monstrous good humour with himself 
and all the world. 

It is needless, and would be impertinent, to tell how the 
two young boys were received in that drawing-room. The 25 
lady who presided there is still living, and has carried with her 
to her peaceful home in the North the respect and love of all 
those who ever felt and shared that gentle and high-bred 
hospitality. Ay, many is the brave heart, now doing its work 
and bearing its load in country curacies, London chambers, 30 
under the Indian sun, and in Australian towns and clearings, 
which looks back with fond and grateful memory to that 
Schoolhouse drawing-room, and dates much of its highest 
and best training to the lessons learnt there. 

Besides Mrs. Arnold and one or two of the elder children, 35 
there were one of the younger masters, young Brooke, who 
was now in the sixth, and had succeeded to his brother’s posi- 
tion and influence, and another sixth-form boy there, talking 
together before the fire. The master and young Brooke, now 
a great strapping fellow six feet high, eighteen years old, 4° 
and powerful as a coal-heaver, nodded kindly to Tom, to his 


152 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


intense glory, and then went on talking; the other did not 
notice them. The hostess, after a few kind words, which 
led the boys at once and insensibly to feel at their ease and to 
begin talking to one another, left them with her own children 
5 while she finished a letter. The young ones got on fast and 
well, Tom holding forth about a prodigious pony he had been 
riding out hunting, and hearing stories of the winter glories 
of the lakes, when tea came in, and immediately after the 
Doctor himself. 

lo How frank, and kind, and manly was his greeting to the 
party by the fire ! It did Tom’s heart good to see him and 
young Brooke shake hands, and look one another in the face; 
and he didn’t fail to remark that Brooke was nearly as tall 
and quite as broad as the Doctor. And his cup was full, 
15 when in another moment his master turned to him with an- 
other warm shake of the hand, and, seemingly oblivious of 
all the late scrapes which he had been getting into, said, “Ah, 
Brown, you here ! I hope you left your father and all well at 
home?” 

20 “Yes, sir, quite well.” 

“ And this is the little fellow who is to share your study. 
Well, he doesn’t look as w’^e should like to see him. He wants 
some Rugby air, and cricket. And you must take him some 
good long walks, to Bilton Grange, and Caldecott’s Spinney, 
25 and show him what a little pretty country we have about 
here.” 

Tom wondered if the Doctor knew that his visits to Bilton 
Grange were for the purpose of taking rooks’ nests (a pro- 
ceeding strongly discountenanced by the owner thereof), and 
30 that those to Caldecott’s Spinney were prompted chiefly by 
the conveniences for setting night-lines. What didn’t the 
Doctor know ? And what a noble use he always made of it ! 
He almost resolved to abjure rook-pies and night-lines forever. 
The tea went merrily off, the Doctor now talking of holiday 
35 doings, and then of the prospects of the half-year, what chance 
there was for the Balliol scholarship, whether the eleven would 
be a good one. Everybody was at his ease, and everybody 
felt that he, young as he might be, was of some use in the 
little School world, and had a work to do there. 

40 Soon after tea the Doctor went off to his study, and the 
young boys a few minutes afterwards took their leave, and 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


153 


went out of the private door which led from the Doctor’s 
house into the middle passage. 

At the fire, at the further end of the passage, was a crowd 
of boys in loud talk and laughter. There was a sudden pause 
when the door opened, and then a great shout of greeting, 5 
as Tom was recognized marching down the passage. 

‘'Hullo, Brown, where do you come from?” 

“Oh, I’ve been to tea with the Doctor,” says Tom, with 
great dignity. 

“My eye!” cried East. “Oh! so that’s why Mary called 10 
you back, and you didn’t come to supper. You lost something 
— that beef and pickles was no end good.” 

“I say, young fellow,” cried Hall, detecting Arthur, and 
catching him by the collar, “what’s your name? Where do 
you come from? How old are you?” 15 

Tom saw Arthur shrink back and look scared as all the group 
turned to him, but thought it best to let him answer, just 
standing by his side to support in case of need. 

“Arthur, sir. I come from Devonshire.” 

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’ you young muff. How old are you?” 20 

“Thirteen.” 

“Can you sing?” 

The poor boy was trembling and hesitating. Tom struck 
in — “You be hanged, Tadpole. He’ll have to sing, whether 
he can or not, Saturday twelve weeks, and that’s long enough 25 
off yet.” 

“Do you know him at home. Brown?” 

“No; but he’s my chum in Gray’s old study, and it’s near 
prayer time, and I haven’t had a look at it yet. Come along, 
Arthur.” 3° 

Away went the two, Tom longing to get his charge safe 
under cover, where he might advise him on his deportment. 

“What a queer chum for Tom Brown,” was the comment 
at the fire ; and it must be confessed so thought Tom himself, 
as he lighted his candle, and surveyed the new green baize 35 
curtains and the carpet and sofa with much satisfaction. 

“ I say, Arthur, what a brick your mother is to make us 
so cosey ! But look here now, you must answer straight up 
when the fellows speak to you, and don’t be afraid. If you’re 
afraid, you’ll get bullied. And don’t you say you can sing; 40 
and don’t you ever talk about home, or your mother and sisters.” 


154 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


Poor little Arthur looked ready to cry. 

“But please/’ said he, “mayn’t I talk about — about home 
to you?” 

“O yes, I like it. But don’t talk to boys you don’t know, 
5 or they’ll call you homesick, or mamma’s darling, or some 
such stuff. What a jolly desk ! Is that yours ? And what 
stunning binding! why, your schoolbooks look like novels.” 

And Tom was soon deep in Arthur’s goods and chattels, 
all new, and good enough for a fifth-form boy, and hardly 
lo thought of his friends outside till the prayer-bell rang. 

I have already described the Schoolhouse prayers; they 
were the same on the first night as on the other nights, save 
for the gaps caused by the absence of those boys who came 
late, and the line of new boys who stood all together at the 
15 further table — of all sorts and sizes, like young bears with 
all their troubles to come, as Tom’s father had said to him 
when he was in the same position. He thought of it as he 
looked at the line, and poor little slight Arthur standing with 
them, and as he was leading him upstairs to Number 4 , directly 
20 after prayers, and showing him his bed. It was a huge high 
airy room, with two large windows looking on to the School 
close. There were twelve beds in the room. The one in the 
furthest corner by the fireplace, occupied by the sixth-form 
boy who was responsible for the discipline of the room, and 
25 the rest by boys in the lower-fifth and other junior forms, 
all fags (for the fifth-form boys, as has been said, slept in rooms 
by themselves). Being fags, the eldest of them was not more 
than about sixteen years old, they were all bound to be up and 
in bed by ten; the sixth-form boys came to bed from ten to 
30 a quarter-past (at which time the old verger came round to 
put the candles out), except when they sat up to read. 

Within a few minutes therefore of their entry, all the other 
boys who slept in Number 4 had come up. The little fellows 
went quietly to their own beds, and began undressing and 
35 talking to each other in whispers; while the elder, amongst 
whom was Tom, sat chatting about on one another’s beds, 
with their jackets and waistcoats off. Poor little Arthur 
was overwhelmed with the novelty of his position. The idea 
of sleeping in the room with strange boys had clearly never 
40 crossed his mind before, and was as painful as it was strange 
to him. He could hardly bear to take his jacket off; how- 


TOM brown’s school DAYS 


155 


ever, presently, with an effort, off it came, and then he paused 
and looked at Tom, who was sitting at the bottom of his bed 
talking and laughing. 

“Please, Brown,” he whispered, “may I wash my face and 
hands?” 5 

“Of course, if you like,” said Tom, staring; “that’s your 
washhand -stand, under the window, second from your bed. 
You’ll have to go down for more water in the morning if you 
use it all.” And on he went with his talk, while Arthur stole 
timidly from between the beds out to his washhand -stand, lo 
and began his ablutions, thereby drawing for a moment on 
himself the attention of the room. 

On went the talk and laughter. Arthur finished his wash- 
ing and undressing, and put on his nightgown. He then looked 
round more nervously than ever. Two or three of the little 15 
boys were already in bed, sitting up with their chins on their 
knees. The light burned clear, the noise went on. It was 
a trying moment for the poor little lonely boy; however, 
this time he didn’t ask Tom what he might or might not do, 
but dropped on his knees by his bedside, as he had done every 20 
day from his childhood, to open his heart to Him who heareth 
the cry and beareth the sorrows of the tender child, and the 
strong man in agony. 

Tom was sitting at the bottom of his bed unlacing his boots, 
so that his back was towards Arthur, and he didn’t see what 25 
had happened, and looked up in wonder at the sudden silence. 
Then two or three boys laughed and sneered, and a big brutal 
fellow, who was standing in the middle of the room, picked 
up a slipper, and shied it at the kneeling boy, calling him a 
snivelling young shaver. Then Tom saw the whole, and the 30 
next moment the boot he had just pulled off flew straight at 
the head of the bully, who had just time to throw up his arm 
and catch it on his elbow. 

“Confound you. Brown, what’s that for?” roared he, stamp- 
ing with pain. 35 

“Never mind what I mean,” said Tom, stepping on to the 
floor, every drop of blood in his body tingling; “if any fellow 
wants the other boot, he knows how to get it.” 

What would have been the result is doubtful, for at this 
moment the sixth-form boy came in, and not another word 40 
could be said. Tom and the rest rushed into bed and finished 


156 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


their unrobing there, and the old verger, as punctual as the 
clock, had put out the candle in another minute, and toddled 
on to the next room, shutting their door with his usual ‘‘Good 
night, genrm’nd’ 

5 There were many boys in the room by whom that little 
scene was taken to heart before they slept. But sleep seemed 
to have deserted the pillow of poor Tom. For some time 
his excitement, and the flood of memories which chased one 
another through his brain, kept him from thinking or resolving, 
lo His head throbbed, his heart leapt, and he could hardly keep 
himself from springing out of bed and rushing about the room. 
Then the thought of his own mother came across him, and the 
promise he had made at her knee, years ago, never to forget 
to kneel by his bedside, and give himself up to his Father, 
15 before he laid his head on the pillow, from which it might 
never rise; and he lay down gently, and cried as if his heart 
would break. He was only fourteen years old. 

It was no light act of courage in those days, my dear boys, 
for a little fellow to say his prayers publicly, even at Rugby. 
20 A few years later, when Arnold’s manly piety had begun to 
leaven the School, the tables turned; before he died, in the 
Schoolhouse at least, and I believe in the other houses, the 
rule was the other way. But poor Tom had come to school 
in other times. The first few nights after he came he did not 
25 kneel down because of the noise, but sat up in bed till the 
candle was out, and then stole out and said his prayers, in 
fear lest some one should find him out. So did many another 
poor little fellow. Then he began to think that he might 
just as well say his prayers in bed, and then that it didn’t 
30 matter whether he was kneeling, or sitting, or lying down. 
And so it had come to pass with Tom, as with all who will not 
confess their Lord before men; and for the last year he had 
probably not said his prayers in earnest a dozen times. 

Poor Tom ! the first and bitterest feeling which was like to 
35 break his heart was the sense of his own cowardice. The 
vice of all others which he loathed was brought in and burned 
in on his own soul. He had lied to his mother, to his conscience, 
to his God. How could he bear it? And then the poor little 
weak boy, whom he had pitied and almost scorned for his 
40 weakness, had done that which he, braggart as he was, dared 
not do. The first dawn of comfort came to him in swearing 


TOM brown’s school DAYS 


157 


to himself that he would stand by that boy through thick and 
thin, and cheer him, and help him, and bear his burdens, for 
the ^ good deed done that night. Then he resolved to write 
home next day and tell his mother all, and what a coward 
her son had been. And then peace came to him as he resolved, 5 
lastly, to bear his testimony next morning. The morning 
would be harder than the night to begin with, but he felt that 
he could not afford to let one chance slip. Several times he 
faltered, for the devil showed him first all his old friends calling 
him “Saint’’ and “Square-toes,” and a dozen hard names, 10 
and whispered to him that his motives would be-misunderstood, 
and he would only be left alone with the new boy; whereas 
it w^as his duty to keep all means of influence, that he might 
do good to the largest number. And then came the more 
subtle temptation, “ Shall I not be showing mj^self braver 15 
than others by doing this ? Have I any right to begin it now ? 
Ought I not rather to pray in my own study, letting other 
boys know that I do so, and trying to lead them to it, while 
in public at least I should go on as I have done?” However, 
his good angel was too strong that night, and he turned on 20 
his side and slept, tired of trying to reason, but resolved to 
follow the impulse which had been so strong, and in which 
, he had found peace. 

Next morning he was up and washed and dressed, all but 
his jacket and waistcoat, just as the ten minutes’ bell began 25 
to ring, and then in the face of the whole room knelt down to 
pray. Not five words could he say — the bell mocked him; 
he was listening for every whisper in the room — what were 
they all thinking of him ? He was ashamed to go on kneeling, 
ashamed to rise from his knees. At last, as it were from 30 
his inmost heart, a still small voice seemed to breathe forth 
the words of the publican, “God be merciful to me a sinner!” 

He repeated them over and over, clinging to them as for his 
life, and rose from his knees comforted and humbled, and 
ready to face the whole world. It was not needed : two other 35 
boys besides Arthur had already followed his example, and he 
went down to the great School with a glimmering of another 
lesson in his heart — the lesson that he who has conquered 
his own coward spirit has conquered the whole outward world ; 
and that other one which the old prophet learnt in the cave 4° 
in Mount Horeb,° when he hid his face, and the still small 


158 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


voice asked, “What doest thou here, Elijah?’’ that however 
we may fancy ourselves alone on the side of good, the King 
and Lord of men is nowhere without his witnesses ; for in every 
society, however seemingly corrupt and godless, there are 
5 those who have not bowed the knee to Baal. 

He found too how greatly he had exaggerated the effect to 
be produced by his act. For a few nights there was a sneer 
or a laugh when he knelt down, but this passed off soon, and 
one by one all the other boys but three or four followed the 
lo lead. I fear that this was in some measure owing to the fact, 
that Tom could probably have thrashed any boy in the room 
except the praepostor; at any rate, every boy knew that he 
would try upon very slight provocation, and didn’t choose 
to run the risk of a hard fight because Tom Brown had taken 
15 a fancy to say his prayers. Some of the small boys of Num- 
ber 4 communicated the new state of things to their chums, 
and in several other rooms the poor little fellows tried it on; 
in one instance or so, where the praepostor heard of it and 
interfered very decidedly, with partial success ; but in the 
20 rest, after a short struggle, the confessors were bullied or 
laughed down, and the old state of things went on for some 
time longer. Before either Tom Brown or Arthur left the 
Schoolhouse, there was no room in which it had not become 
the regular custom. I trust it is so still, and that the old 
'5 heathen state of things has gone out forever. 


CHAPTER II 


THE NEW BOY 

“And Heaven’s rith instincts in him grew, 

As effortless as woodland nooks 

Send violets up and paint them blue.” — Lowell. 

I DO not mean to recount all the little troubles and an- 
noyances which thronged upon Tom at the beginning of this 
half-year, in his new character of bear-leader to a gentle little 
boy straight from home. He seemed to himself to have be- 
come a new boy again, without any of the long-suffering and 5 
meekness indispensable for supporting that character with 
moderate success. From morning till night he had the feel- 
ing of responsibility on his mind, and even if he left Arthur 
in their study or in the close for an hour, was never at ease 
till he had him in sight again. He waited for him at the doors lo 
of the school after every lesson and every calling-over; watched 
that no tricks were played him, and none but the regulation 
questions asked; kept his eye on his plate at dinner and 
breakfast, to see that no unfair depredations were made upon 
his viands; in short, as East remarked, cackled after him 15 
like a hen with one chick. 

Arthur took a long time thawing too, which made it all the 
harder work; was sadly timid; scarcely ever spoke unless 
Tom spoke to him first, and, worst of all, would agree with him 
in everything, the hardest thing in the world for a Brown to 20 
bear. He got quite angry sometimes, as they sat together 
of a night in their study, at this provoking habit of agreement, 
and was on the point of breaking out a dozen times with a 
lecture upon the propriety of a fellow having a will of his own 
and speaking out: but managed to restrain himself by the 25 
thought that it might only frighten Arthur, and the remem- 
brance of the lesson he had learnt from him on his first night 

159 


160 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


at Number 4. Then he would resolve to sit still, and say not 
a word till Arthur began; but he was always beat at that 
game, and had presently to begin talking in despair, fearing 
lest Arthur might think he was vexed at something if he didn’t, 
5 and dog-tired of sitting tongue-tied. 

It was hard work ! But Tom had taken it up, and meant 
to stick to it, and go through with it so as to satisfy himself ; 
in which resolution he was much assisted by the chaffing of 
East and his other old friends, who began to call him ‘‘dry- 
lo nurse,” and otherwise to break their small wit on him. But 
when they took other ground, as tfiey did every now and then, 
Tom was sorely puzzled. 

“Tell you what. Tommy,” East would say, “you’ll spoil 
young Hopeful with too much coddling. Why can’t you let 
15 him go about by himself and find his own level? He’ll never 
be worth a button, if you go on keeping him under your skirts.” 

“Well, but he ain’t fit to fight his own way yet; I’m trying 
to get him to it every day — but he’s very odd. Poor little 
beggar ! I can’t make him out a bit. He ain’t a bit like 
20 anything I’ve ever seen or heard of — he seems all over nerves; 
anything you say seems to hurt him like a cut or blow.” 

“That sort of boy’s no use here,” said East, “he’ll only 
spoil. Now I’ll tell you what to do. Tommy. Go and get 
a nice large bandbox made, and put him in with plenty of 
25 cotton-wool, and a pap-bottle, labelled ‘ With care — this 
side up,’ and send him back to mamma.” 

“I think I shall make a hand of him though,” said Tom, 
smiling, “say what you will. There’s something about him, 
every now and then, which shows me he’s got pluck some- 
30 where in him. That’s the only thing after all that’ll wash, 
ain’t it, old Scud? But how to get at it and bring it out?” 

Tom took one hand out of his breeches-pocket and stuck 
it in his back hair for a scratch, giving his hat a tilt over his 
nose, his one method of invoking wisclom. He stared at the 
35 ground with a ludicrously puzzled look, and presently looked 
up and met East’s eyes. That young gentleman slapped 
him on the back, and then put his arm round his shoulder, 
as they strolled through the quadrangle together. “Tom,” 
said he, “blest if you ain’t the best old fellow ever was — I 
40 do like to see you go into a thing. Hang it, I wish I could 
take things as you do — but I never can get higher than a 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


161 


joke. Everything’s a joke. If I was going to be flogged 
next minute, I should be in a blue funk, but I couldn’t help 
laughing at it for the life of me.” 

“ Brown and East, you go and fag for Jones on the great 
fives’-court.” 5 

“ Hullo, though, that’s past a joke,” broke out East, spring- 
ing at the young gentleman who addressed them, and catch- 
ing him by the collar. “Here, Tommy, catch hold of him 
t’other side before he can holla.” 

The youth was seized, and dragged struggling out of the lo 
quadrangle into the Schoolhouse hall. He was one of the 
miserable little pretty white-handed curly-headed boys, petted 
and pampered by some of the big fellows, who wrote their 
verses for them, taught them to drink and use bad language, 
and did all they could to spoil them for everything ^ in this 15 
world and the next. One of the avocations in which these 
young gentlemen took particular delight was in going about 
and getting fags for their protectors, when those heroes were 
playing any game. They carried about pencil and papers 
with them, putting down the names of all the boys they sent, 20 
always sending five times as many as were wanted, and getting 
all those thrashed who didn’t go. The present youth belonged 
to a house which was very jealous of the Schoolhouse, and 
always picked out Schoolhouse fags when he could find them. 
However, this time he’d got the wrong sow by the ear. His 25 
captors slammed the great door of the hall, and East put his 
back against it, while Tom gave the prisoner a shake-up, took 
away his list, and stood him up on the floor, while he proceeded 
leisurely to examine that document. 

“Let me out, let me go!” screamed the boy in a furious 30 
passion. “I’ll go and tell Jones this minute, and he’ll give 
you both the thrashing you ever had.” 

“Pretty little dear,” said East, patting the top of his hat; 
“hark how he swears, Tom. Nicely brought-up young man, 
ain’t he, I don’t think.” .35 

* A kind and wise critic, an old Rugboean, notes here in the margin : 
“The small friend system was not so utterly bad from 1841-1847.” 
Before that, too, there were many noble friendships between big and 
little boys, but I can’t strike out the passage; many boys will know 
why it is left in. 


M 


162 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“ Let me alone, you/’ roared the boy, foaming with 

rage, and kicking at East, who quietly tripped him up, and 
deposited him on the floor in a place of safety. 

'‘Gently, young fellow,” said he; “’tain’t improving for 
5 little whipper-snappers like you to be indulging in blasphemy; 
so you stop that, or you’ll get something you won’t like.” 

"I’ll have you both licked when I get out, that I will,” 
rejoined the boy, beginning to snivel. 

"Two can play at that game, mind you,” said Tom, who 
lo had finished his examination of the list. "Now you just 
listen here. We’ve just come across the fives’-court, and 
Jones has four fags there already, two more than he wants. 
If he’d wanted us to change, he’d have stopped us himself. 
And here, you little blackguard, you’ve got seven names down 
15 on your list besides ours, and five of them Schoolhouse.” 
Tom walked up to him, and jerked him on to his legs; he was 
by this time whining like a whipped puppy. 

" Now just listen to me. We ain’t going to fag for Joneses. 
If you tell him you’ve sent us, we’ll each of us give you such 
20 a thrashing as you’ll remember.” And Tom tore up the list 
and threw the pieces into the fire. 

"And mind you, too,” said East, "don’t let me catch you 
again sneaking about the Schoolhouse, and picking up our 
fags. You haven’t got the sort of hide to take a sound licking 
25 kindly;” and he opened the door and sent the young gentle- 
man flying into the quadrangle with a parting kick. 

"Nice boy. Tommy,” said East, shoving his hands in his 
pockets and strolling to the fire. 

"Worst sort we breed,” responded Tom, following his ex- 
30 ample. "Thank goodness, no big fellow ever took to petting 
me.” 

"You’d never have been like that,” said East. "I should 
like to have put him in a museum : — Christian young gentle- 
man, nineteenth century, highly educated. Stir him up with 
35 a long pole. Jack, and hear him swear like a drunken sailor ! 
He’d make a respectable public open its eyes, I think.” 

"Think he’ll tell Jones?” said Tom. 

"No,” said East. "Don’t care if he does.” 

" Nor I,” said Tom. And they went back to talk about 
40 Arthur. 

The young gentleman had brains enough not to tell Jones, 


TOM brown's school DAYS 


163 


reasoning that East and Brown, who were noted as some of 
the toughest fags in the school, wouldn't care three straws for 
any licking Jones might give them, and would be likely to 
keep their words as to passing it on with interest. 

After the above conversation. East came a good deal to 5 
their study, and took notice of Arthur; and soon allowed to 
Tom that he was a thorough little gentleman, and would get 
over his shyness all in good time; which much comforted our 
hero. He felt every day, too, the value of having an object 
in his life, something that drew him out of himself; and it 10 
being the dull time of the year, and no games going about for 
which he much cared, was happier than he had ever yet been 
at school, which was saying a great deal. 

The time which Tom allowed himself away from his charge 
was from locking-up till supper-time. During this hour or 15 
hour and a half he used to take his fling, going round to the 
studies of all his acquaintance, sparring or gossiping in the hall, 
now jumping the old iron-bound tables, or carving a bit of 
his name on them, then joining in some chorus of merry voices; 
in fact, blowing off his steam, as we should now call it. 20 

This process was so congenial to his temper, and Arthur 
showed himself so pleased at the arrangement, that it was 
several weeks before Tom was ever in their study before supper. 
One evening, however, he rushed in to look for an old chisel, or 
some corks, or other article essential to his pursuit for the time 25 
being, and while rummaging about in the cupboards, looked 
up for a moment, and was caught at once by the figure of poor 
little Arthur. The boy was sitting with his elbows on the 
table, and his head leaning on his hands, and before him an 
open book, on which his tears were falling fast. Tom shut the 30 
door at once, and sat down on the sofa by Arthur, putting his 
arm round his neck. 

“Why, young un ! what's the matter?" said he, kindly; 
“you ain't unhappy, are you?" 

“Oh no. Brown," said the little boy, looking up with the 35 
great tears in his eyes; “you are so kind to me, I'm very 
happy." 

“ Why don't you call me Tom ? lots of boys do that I don't 
like half so much as you. What are you reading, then? Hang 
it, you must come about with me, and not mope yourself," 40 
and Tom cast down his eyes on the book, and saw it was the 


164 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


Bible. He was silent for a minute, and thought to himself, 
“Lesson Number 2 , Tom Brown”; and then said gently — 

“ Fm very glad to see this, Arthur, and ashamed that I don’t 
read the Bible more myself. Do you read it every night before 
c supper while I’m out?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I wish you’d wait till afterwards, and then we’d read 
together. But, Arthur, why does it make you cry?” 

“Oh, it isn’t that I’m unhappy. But at home, while my 
lo father was alive, we always read the lessons after tea; and I 
love to read them over now, and trj^ to remember vdiat he said 
about them. I can’t remember all, and I think I scarcely 
understand a great deal of what I do remember. But it all 
comes back to me so fresh, that I can’t help crying sometimes 
15 to think I shall never read them again with him.” 

Arthur had never spoken of his home before, and Tom hadn’t 
encouraged him to do so, as his blundering schoolboy reasoning 
made him think that Arthur would be softened and less manly 
for thinking of home. But now he was fairly interested, and 
20 forgot all about chisels and bottled beer ; while with very little 
encouragement Arthur launched into his home history, and 
the prayer-bell put them both out sadly when it rang to call 
them to the hall. 

From this time Arthur constantly spoke of his home, and 
25 above all, of his father, who had been dead about a year, and 
whose memory Tom soon got to love and reverence almost as 
much as his own son did. 

Arthur’s father had been the clergyman of a parish in the 
Midland Counties, which had risen into a large town during the 
30 war, and upon which the hard years which followed had fallen 
with a fearful weight. The trade had been half ruined: and 
then came the old sad story, of masters reducing their estab- 
lishments, men turned off and wandering about, hungry and 
wan in body, and fierce in soul, from the thought of wives and 
35 children starving at home, and the last sticks of furniture going 
to the pawn-shop. Children taken from school, and lounging 
about the dirty streets and courts, too listless almost to play, 
and squalid in rags and misery. And then the fearful struggle 
between the employers and men; lowerings of wages, strikes, 
40 and the long course of oft-repeated crime, ending every now 
and then with a riot, a fire, and the county yeomanry. There 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


165 


is no need here to dwell upon such tales ; the Englishman into 
whose soul they have not sunk deep is not worthy the name; 
you English boys for whom this book is meant (God bless your 
bright faces and kind hearts !) will learn it all soon enough. 

Into such a parish and state of society Arthur’s father had 5 
been thrown at the age of twenty-five, a young married parson, 
full of faith, hope, and love. He had battled with it like a man, 
and had lots of fine Utopian® ideas about the perfectibility of 
mankind, glorious humanity and such-like, knocked out of his 
head ; and a real wholesome Christian love for the poor strug- 10 
gling, sinning men, of whom he felt himself one, and with and 
for whom he spent fortune, and strength, and life, driven into 
his heart. He had battled like a man, and gotten a man’s 
reward. No silver teapots or salvers, with flowery inscriptions 
setting forth his virtues and the appreciation of a genteel par- 15 
ish; no fat living or stall, for which he never looked, and 
didn’t care ; no sighs and praises of comfortable dowagers and 
well-got-up young women, who worked him slippers, sugared 
his tea, and adored him as “a devoted man”; but a manly 
respect, wrung from the unwilling souls of men who fancied 20 
his order their natural enemies; the fear and hatred of every 
one who was false or unjust in the district, were he master or 
man; and the blessed sight of women and children daily becom- 
ing more human and more homely, a comfort to themselves 
and to their husbands and fathers. 25 

These things of course took time, and had to be fought 
for with toil and sweat of brain and heart, and with the life- 
blood poured out. All that, Arthur had laid his account to 
give, and took as a matter of course; neither pitying himself, 
nor looking on himself as a martyr, when he felt the wear and 3° 
tear making him feel old before his time, and the stifling air of 
fever-dens telling on his health. His wife seconded him in 
everything. She had been rather fond of society, and much 
admired and run after before her marriage: and the London 
world to which she had belonged pitied poor Fanny Evelyn 35 
when she married the young clergyman, and went to settle in 
that smoky hole Turley, a very nest of Chartism® and Atheism, 
in a part of the county which all the decent families had had 
to leave for years. However, somehow or other she didn’t 
seem to care. If her husband’s liHng had been amongst green 40 
fields and near pleasant neighbours she would have liked it 


166 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


better, that she never pretended to deny. But there they were : 
the air wasn’t bad after all ; the people were very good sort of 
people, civil to you if you were civil to them, after the first 
brush; and they didn’t expect to work miracles, and convert 
5 them all offhand into model Christians. So he and she went 
quietly among the folk, talking to and treating them just as 
they would have done people of their own rank. They didn’t 
feel that they were doing anything out of the common way, 
and so were perfectly natural, and had none of that conde- 
lo scension or conciseness of manner which so outrages the inde- 
pendent poor. And thus they gradually won respect and con- 
fidence; and after sixteen years he was looked up to by the 
whole neighbourhood as the just man, the man to whom masters 
and men could go in their strikes, and in all their quarrels and 
IS difficulties, and by whom the right and true word would be 
said without fear or favour. And the women had come round 
to take her advice, and go to her as a friend in all their troubles; 
while the children all worshipped the very ground she trod on. 

They had three children, two daughters and a son, little 
20 Arthur, who came between his sisters. He had been a very 
delicate boy from his childhood; they thought he had a ten- 
dency to consumption, and so he had been kept at home and 
taught by his father, who had made a companion of him, and 
from whom he had gained good scholarship, and a knowledge 
25 of and interest in many subjects which boys in general never 
come across till they are many years older. 

Just as he reached his thirteenth year, and his father had 
settled that he was strong enough to go to school, and, after 
much debating with himself, had resolved to send him there, 
30 a desperate typhus fever broke out in the town : most of the 
other clergy, and almost all the doctors, ran away; the work 
fell with tenfold weight on those who stood to their work. 
Arthur and his wife both caught the fever, of which he died in 
a few days, and she recovered, having been able to nurse him 
35 to the end, and store up his last words. He was sensible to the 
last, and calm and happy, leaving his wife and children with 
fearless trust for a few years in the hands of the Lord and 
Friend who had lived and died for him, and for whom he, to 
the best of his power, had lived and died. Jlis widow’s mourn- 
40 ing was deep and gentle ; she was more affected by the request 
of the Committee of a Freethinking Club, established in the 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


167 


town by ^ome of the factory hands (which he had striven 
against with might and main, and nearly suppressed), that 
some of their number might be allowed to help bear the coffin, 
than by anything else. Two of them were chosen, who with 
six other labouring men, his own fellow-workmen and friends, 5 
bore him to his grave — a man who had fought the Lord’s 
fight even unto the death. The shops were closed and the fac- 
tories shut that day in the parish, yet no master stopped the 
day’s wages; but for many a year afterwards the townsfolk 
felt the want of that brave, hopeful, loving parson and his wife, 10 
who had lived to teach them mutual forbearance and helpful- 
ness, and had almost at last given them a glimpse of what this 
old world would be if people would live for God and each other 
instead of for themselves. 

What has all this to do with our story? Well, my dear boys, 15 
let a fellow go on his own way, or you won’t get anything out 
of him worth having. I must show you what sort of a man it 
was who had begotten and trained little Arthur, or else you 
won’t believe in him, which I am resolved you shall do; and 
you won’t see how he, the timid weak boy, had points in him 20 
from which the bravest and strongest recoiled, and made his 
presence and example felt from the first on all sides, uncon- 
sciously to himself, and without the least attempt at prose- 
lytizing. The spirit of his father was in him, and the Friend to 
whom his father had left him did not neglect the trust. 25 

After supper that night, and almost nightly for years after- 
wards, Tom and Arthur, and by degrees East occasionally, 
and sometimes one, sometimes another, of their friends, read a 
chapter of the Bible together, and talked it over afterwards. 
Tom was at first utterly astonished, and almost shocked, at 3° 
the sort of way in which Arthur read the book and talked about 
the men and women whose lives are there told. The first night 
they happened to fall on the chapters about the famine in 
Egypt, and Arthur began talking about Joseph as if he were a 
living statesman; just as he might have talked about Lord 35 
Grey® and the Reform Bill; only that they were much more 
living realities to him. The book was to him, Tom saw, the 
most vivid and delightful history of real people, who might do 
right or wrong, just like any one who was walking about in 
Rugby — the Doctor, or the masters, or the sixth-form boys. 40 
But the astonishment soon passed off, the scales seemed to 


168 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


drop from his eyes, and the book became at once and forever 
to him the great human and divine book, and the men and 
women, whom he had looked upon as something quite differ- 
ent from himself, became his friends and counsellors. 

5 For our purposes, however, the history of one night’s read- 
ing will be sufficient, which must be told here, now we are on 
the subject, though it didn’t happen till a year afterwards, 
and long after the events recorded in the next chapter of our 
story. 

lo Arthur, Tom, and East were together one night, and read 
the story of Naaman° coming to Elisha® to be cured of his 
leprosy. When the chapter was finished, Tom shut his Bible 
with a slap. 

“I can’t stand that fellow Naaman,” said he, “after what 
—15 he’d seen and felt, going back and bowing himself down in the 
house of Rimmon,® because his effeminate scoundrel of a 
master did it. I wonder Elisha took the trouble to heal him. 
How he must have despised him.” 

“Yes, there you go off as usual, with a shell on your head,” 
20 struck in East, who always took the opposite side to Tom ; 
half from love of argument, half from conviction. “How do 
you know he didn’t think better of it? how do you know his 
master was a scoundrel ? His letter don’t look like it, and the 
book don’t say so.” 

25 “I don’t care,” rejoined Tom; “why did Naaman talk about 
bowing down, then, if he didn’t mean to do it? He wasn’t 
likely to get more in earnest when he got back to Court, and 
away from the Prophet.” 

“Well but, Tom,” said Arthur, “look what Elisha says to 
30 him, ‘Go in peace.’ He wouldn’t have said that if Naaman 
had been in the wrong.” 

“I don’t see that that means more than saying, ‘You’re not 
the man I took you for.’” 

“No, no, that won’t do at all,” said East; “read the words 
35 fairly, and take men as you find them. I like Naaman, and 
think he was a very fine fellow.” 

“I don’t,” said Tom, positiveh^ 

“Well, I think East is right,” said Arthur; “I can’t 
see but what it’s right to do the best you can, though it 
40 mayn’t be the best absolutely. Every man isn’t born to be a 
martyr.” 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


169 


“Of course, of course,'’ said East; “but he’s on one of his 
pet hobbies. How often have I told you, Tom, that you must 
drive a nail where it’ll go.” 

“And how often have I told you,” rejoined Tom, “that it’ll 
always go where you want, if you only stick to it and hit hard 5 
enough. I hate half measures and compromises.” 

“Yes, he’s a whole-hog man, is Tom. Must have the whole 
animal, hair and teeth, claws and tail,” laughed East. “ Sooner 
have no bread any day than half the loaf.” 

“I don’t know,” said Arthur, “it’s rather puzzling; but 10 
ain’t most right things got by proper compromises, I mean 
where the principle isn’t given up?” 

“ That’s just the point,” said Tom ; “ I don’t object to a com- 
promise, where you don’t give up your principle.” 

“Not you,” said East laughingly. “I know him of old, 15 
Arthur, and you’ll find him out some day. There isn’t such a 
reasonable fellow in the world, to hear him talk. He never 
wants anything but what’s right and fair; only when you come 
to settle what’s right and fair, it’s everything that he wants, 
and nothing that you want. And that’s his idea of a com- 20 
promise. Give me the Brown compromise when I’m on his 
side.” 

“Now, Harry,” said Tom, “no more chaff — I’m serious. 
Look here — this is what makes my blood tingle”; and he 
turned over the pages of his Bible and read, “Shadrach, 25 
Meshach, and Abednego® answered and said to the king, ‘O 
Nebuchadnezzar, we are not careful to answer thee in this 
matter. If it he so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver 
us from the burning fiery furnace, and He will deliver us out of 
thine hand, O king. But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, 30 
that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image 
which thou hast set up.’” He read the last verse twice, em- 
phasizing the nots, and dwelling on them as if they gave him 
actual pleasure and were hard to part with. 

They were silent a minute, and then Arthur said, “Yes, 35 
that’s a glorious story, but it don’t prove your point, Tom, I 
think. There are times when there is only one way, and that 
the highest, and then the men are found to stand in the breach.” 

“There’s always a highest way, and it’s always the right 
one,” said Tom. “How many times has the Doctor told us 40 
that in his sermons in the last year, I should like to know !” 


170 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


‘‘Well, you ain’t going to convince us, — is he, Arthur? No 
Brown compromise to-night,” said East, looking at his watch. 
“But it’s past eight, and we must go to first lesson. What a 
bore !” 

5 So they took down their books and fell to work ; but Arthur 
didn’t forget, and thought long and often over the conversation. 


CHAPTER III 


ARTHUR MAKES A FRIEND 
“Let Nature be your teacher. 


Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; 

Our meddling intellect 

Misshapes the beauteous forms of t hin gs : — 

We murder to dissect. 

Enough of Science and of Art ; 

Close up those barren leaves ; 

Come forth, and bring with you a heart 

That watches and receives." 

— Wordsworth: The Tables Turned. 

About six weeks after the beginning of the half, as Tom and 
Arthur were sitting one night before supper beginning their 
verses, Arthur suddenly stopped, and looked up, and said, 
“Tom, do you know anything of Martin?" 

“Yes," said Tom, taking his hand out of his back hair, and 5 
delighted to throw his Gradus ad Parnassum° on to the sofa; 

“ I know him pretty well. He’s a very good fellow, but as mad 
as a hatter. He’s called Madman, you know. And never was 
such a fellow for getting all sorts of rum things about him. He 
tamed two snakes last half, and used to carry them about in 10 
his pocket, and I’ll be bound he’s got some hedgehogs and rats 
in his cupboard now, and no one knows what besides." 

“I should like very much to know him," said Arthur; “he 
was next to me in the form to-day, and he’d lost his book and 
looked over mine, and he seemed so kind and gentle, that 1 15 
liked him very much." 

“Ah, poor old Madman, he’s always losing his books," said 
Tom, “and getting called up and floored because he hasn’t 
got them." 


171 


172 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“I like him all the better,” said Arthur. 

‘‘Well, he’s great fun, I can tell you,” said Tom, throwing 
himself back on the sofa, and chuckling at the remembrance. 
“ We had such a game with him one day last half. He had been 
5 kicking up horrid stinks for some time in his study, till I sup- 
pose some fellow told Mary, and she told the Doctor. Anyhow, 
one day a little before dinner, when he came down from the 
library, the Doctor, instead of going home, came striding into 
the Hall. East and I and five or six other fellows were at the 
lo fire, and preciously we stared, for he don’t come in like that 
once a year, unless it is a wet day and there’s a fight in the Hall. 
‘East,’ says he, ‘just come and show me Martin’s study.’ ‘Oh, 
here’s a game,’ whispered the rest of us, and we all cut up- 
stairs after the Doctor, East leading. As we got into the New 
15 Row, which was hardly wide enough to hold the Doctor and 
his gown, click, click, click, we heard in the old Madman’s den. 
Then' that stopped all of a sudden, and the bolts went to like 
fun: the Madman knew East’s step, and thought there was 
going to be a siege. 

20 “‘It’s the Doctor, Martin. He’s here and wants to see you,’ 
sings out East. 

“Then the bolts went back slowly, and the door opened, 
and there was the old Madman standing, looking precious 
scared ; his jacket off, his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, and his 
25 long skinny arms all covered with anchors and arrows and 
letters, tattooed in with gunpowder like a sailor-boy’s, and a 
stink fit to knock you down coming out. ’Twas all the Doctor 
could do to stand his ground, and East and I, who were looking 
in under his arms, held our noses tight. The old magpie was 
30 standing on the window-sill, all his feathers drooping, and look- 
ing disgusted and half-poisoned. 

“‘What can you be about, Martin?’ says the Doctor; ‘you 
really mustn’t go on in this way — you’re a nuisance to the 
whole passage.’ 

35 “ ‘ Please, sir, I was only mixing up this powder, there isn’t 

any harm in it;’ and the Madman seized nervously on his 
pestle-and -mortar, to show the Doctor the harmlessness of his 
pursuits, and went off pounding; click, click, click; he hadn’t 
given six clicks before, puff ! up went the whole into a great 
40 blaze, away went the pestle-and-mortar across the study, and 
back we tumbled into the passage. The magpie fluttered 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


173 


down into the court, swearing, and the Madman danced out, 
howling, with his fingers in his mouth. The Doctor caught 
hold of him, and called to us to fetch some water. ‘There, 
you silly fellow,’ said he, quite pleased though to find he wasn’t 
much hurt, ‘ you see you don’t know the least what you’re doing 5 
with all these things ; and now, mind, you must give up prac- 
tising chemistry by yourself.’ Then he took hold of his arm 
and looked at it, and I saw he had to bite his lip, and his eyes 
twinkled; but he said, quite grave, ‘Here, you see, you’ve 
been making all these foolish marks on yourself, which you can 10 
never get out, and you’ll be very sorry for it in a year or two : 
now come down to the housekeeper’s room, and let us see if 
you are hurt.’ And away went the two, and we all stayed and 
had a regular turn-out of the den, till Martin came back with 
his hand bandaged and turned us out. However, I’ll go and 15 
see what he’s after, and tell him to come in after prayers to 
supper.” And away went Toni to find the boy in question, 
who dwelt in a little study by himself, in New Row. 

The aforesaid Martin, whom Arthur had taken such a fancy 
for, was one of those unfortunates who were at that time of day 20 
(and are, I fear, still) quite out of their places at a public school. 

If we knew how to use our boys, Martin would have been seized 
upon and educated as a natural philosopher. He had a passion 
for birds, beasts, and insects, and knew more of them and their 
habits than any one in Rugby; except perhaps the Doctor, who 25 
knew everything. He was also an experimental chemist on a 
small scale, and had made unto himself an electric machine, 
from which it was his greatest pleasure and glory to administer 
small shocks to any small boys who were rash enough to venture 
into his study. And this was by no means an adventure free 30 
from excitement; for, besides the probability of a snake drop- 
ping on to your head or twining lovingly up your leg, or a rat 
getting into your breeches-pocket in search of food, there was 
the animal and chemical odour to be faced, which always hung 
about the den, and the chance of being blown up in some of 35 
the many experiments which Martin was always trying, with 
the most wondrous results in the shape of explosions and 
smells that mortal boy ever heard of. Of course, poor Martin, 
in consequence of his pursuits, had become an Ishmaelite in the 
house. In the first place he half poisoned all his neighbours, 40 
and they in turn were always on the lookout to pounce upon 


174 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


any of his numerous live stock, and drive him frantic by entic- 
ing his pet old magpie out of his window into a neighbouring 
study, and making the disreputable old bird drunk on toast 
soaked in beer and sugar. Then Martin, for his sins, inhabited 
5 a study looking into a small court some ten feet across, the 
window of which was completely commanded by those of the 
studies opposite in the Sick-room Row, these latter being at a 
slightly higher elevation. East, and another boy of an equally 
tormenting and ingenious turn of mind, now lived exactly 
lo opposite, and had expended huge pains and time in the prepa- 
ration of instruments of annoyance for the behoof of Martin 
and his live colony. One morning an old basket made its 
appearance, suspended by a short cord outside Martin’s win- 
dow, in which were deposited an amateur nest containing four 
15 young hungry jackdaws, the pride and glory of Martin’s life 
for the time being, and which he was currently asserted to have 
hatched upon his own person. Early in the morning and late 
at night he was to be seen half out of window, administering 
to the varied wants of his callow brood. After deep cogita- 
20 tion. East and his chum had spliced a knife on to the end of a 
fishing-rod; and having watched Martin out, had, after half 
an hour’s severe sawing, cut the string by which the basket 
was suspended, and tumbled it on to the pavement below, with 
hideous remonstrance from the occupants. Poor Martin, re- 
25 turning from his short absence, collected the fragments and 
replaced his brood (except one whose neck had been broken 
in the descent ) in their old location, suspending them this time 
by string and wire twisted together, defiant of any sharp instru- 
ment which his persecutors could command. But, like the 
30 Russian engineers at Sebastopol,® East and his chum had an 
answer for every move of the adversary; and the next day had 
mounted a gun in the shape of a pea-shooter upon the ledge of 
their window, trained so as to bear exactly upon the spot which 
Martin had to occupy while tending his nur.slings. The mo- 
35 ment he began to feed, they began to shoot; in vain did the 
enemy himself invest in a pea-shooter, and endeavour to 
answer the fire while he fed the young birds with his other hand ; 
his attention was divided, and his shots flew wild, while every 
one of theirs told on his face and hands, and drove him into 
40 bowlings and imprecations. He had been driven to ensconce 
the nest in a corner of his already too well -filled den. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


175 


His door was barricaded by a set of ingenious bolts of his 
own invention, for the sieges were frequent by the neighbours 
when any unusually ambrosial odour spread itself from the 
den to the neighbouring studies. The door panels were in a 
normal state of smash, but the frame of the door resisted all 5 
besiegers, and behind it the owner carried on his varied pur- 
suits; much in the same state of mind, I should fancy, as a 
border-farmer lived in, in the days of the old moss-troopers, 
when his hold might be summoned or his cattle carried off at 
any minute of night or day. 10 

“Open, Martin,, old boy — it’s only I, only Tom Brown.” 

“Oh, very well, stop a moment.” One bolt went back. 
“You’re sure East isn’t there?” 

“No, no; hang it, open.” Tom gave a kick, the other bolt 
creaked, and he entered the den. 15 

Den indeed it was, about five feet six inches long by five 
wide, and seven feet high. About six tattered school-books, 
and a few chemical books. Taxidermy, Stanley on Birds, and 
an odd volume of Bewick,® the latter in much better preserva- 
tion, occupied the top shelves. The other shelves, where they 20 
had not been cut away and used by the owner for other pur- 
poses, were fitted up for the abiding places of birds, beasts, and 
reptiles. There was no attempt at carpet or curtain. The 
table was entirely occupied by the great work of Martin, the 
electric machine, which was covered carefully with the remains 25 
of his table-cloth. The jackdaw cage occupied one wall ; the 
other was adorned by a small hatchet, a pair of climbing irons, 
and his tin candle-box, in which he was for the time being en- 
deavouring to raise a hopeful young family of field-mice. As 
nothing should be let to lie useless, it was well that the candle- 30 
box was thus occupied, for candles Martin never had. A pound 
was issued to him weekly, as to the other boys, but as candles 
were available capital, and easily exchangeable for birds’ eggs 
or young birds, Martin’s pound invariably found its way in a 
few hours to Howlett’s the bird-fancier’s, in the Bilton road, 35 
who would give a hawk’s or nightingale’s egg or young linnet 
in exchange. Martin’s ingenuity was therefore forever on the 
rack to supply himself with a light; just now he had hit upon a 
grand invention, and the den was lighted by a flaring cotton- 
wick issuing from a ginger-beer bottle full of some doleful com- 4 ° 
position. When light altogether failed him, Martin would loaf 


176 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


about by the fires in the passages or Hall, after the manner of 
Diggs, and try to do his verses or learn his lines by the firelight. 

“ Well, old boy, you haven’t got any sweeter in the den this 
half. How that stuff in the bottle stinks. Never mind, I 
5 ain’t going to stop, but you come up after prayers to our study; 
you know young Arthur ; we’ve got Gray’s study. We’ll have 
a good supper and talk about birds’-nesting.” 

Martin was evidently highly pleased at the invitation, and 
promised to be up without fail. 

lo As soon as prayers were over, and the sixth and fifth-form 
boys had withdrawn to the aristocratic seclusion of their own 
room, and the rest, or democracy, had sat down to their supper 
in the Hall, Tom and Arthur, having secured their allowances 
of bread and cheese, started on their feet to catch the eye of 
15 the praepostor of the week, who remained in charge during 
supper, walking up and down the Hall. He happened to be 
an easy-going fellow, so they got a pleasant nod to their Please 
may I go out?” and away they scrambled to prepare for Mar- 
tin a sumptuous banciuet. This Tom had insisted on, for he 
20 was in great delight on the occasion ; the reason of which de- 
light must be expounded. The fact was that this was the first 
attempt at a friendship of his own which Arthur had made, and 
Tom hailed it as a grand step. The ease with which he him- 
self became hail-fellow-well-met with anybody, and blundered 
25 into and out of twenty friendships a half-year, made him some- 
times sorry and sometimes angry at Arthur’s reserve and lone- 
liness. True, Arthur was always pleasant, and even jolly, 
with any boys who came with Tom to their study; but Tom 
felt that it was only through him, as it were, that his chum 
30 associated with others, and that but for him Arthur would 
have been dwelling in a wilderness. This increased his con- 
sciousness of responsibility; and though he hadn’t reasoned 
it out and made it clear to himself, yet somehow he knew that 
this responsibility, this trust which he had taken on him with- 
35 out thinking about it, head-over-heels in fact, was the centre 
and turning-point of his school-life, that which was to make 
him or mar him ; his appointed work and trial for the time being. 
And Tom was becoming a new boy, though with frequent 
tumbles in the dirt and perpetual hard battle with himself, 
40 and was daily growing in manfulness and thoughtfulness, as 
every high-couraged and well-principled boy must, when he 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


177 


finds himself for the first time consciously at grips with self and 
the devil. Already he could turn almost without a sigh from 
the school-gates, from which had just scampered off East and 
three or four others of his own particular set, bound for some 
jolly lark not quite according to law, and involving probably a 5 
row with louts, keepers, or farm-labourers, the skipping dinner 
or calling-over, some of Phoebe Jennings’ beer, and a very pos- 
sible flogging at the end of all as a relish. He had quite got 
over the stage in wdiich he would grumble to himself, 'AVell, 
hang it, it’s very hard of the Doctor to have saddled me with 10 
Arthur. Why couldn’t he have chummed him with Fogey, or 
Thomkin, or any of the fellow’s w’ho never do anything but walk 
round the close, and finish their copies the first day they’re 
tet?” But although all this was past, he often loi ged, and 
felt that he was right in longing, for more time for the legiti- 15 
mate pastimes of cricket, fives, bathing, and fishing within 
bounds, in which Arthur could not yet be his companion ; and 
he felt that when the young un (as he now generally called him) 
had found a pursuit and some other friend for himself, he 
should be able to give more time to the education of his own 20 
body with a clear conscience. 

Arid now what he so wished for had come to pass; he almost 
hailed it as a special providence (as indeed it was, but not for 
the reasons he gave for it — what providences are?) that 
Arthur should have singled out Martin of all fellows for a friend. 25 
'^The old Madman is the very fellow,” thought he; ‘‘he will 
take him scrambling over half the country after birds’ eggs 
and flowers, make him run and swim and climb like an Indian, 
and not teach him a word of anything bad, or keep him from 
his lessons. What luck!” And so, with more than his usual 30 
heartiness, he dived into his cupboard, and hauled out an old 
knuckle-bone of ham, and two or three bottles of beer, together 
with the solemn pewter only used on state occasions; while 
Arthur, equally elated at the easy accomplishment of his first 
act of volition in the joint establishment, produced from his 35 
side a bottle of pickles and a pot of jam, and cleared the table. 

In a minute or two the noise of the boys coming up from supper 
was heard, and Martin knocked and w’as admitted, bearing 
his bread and cheese, and the three fell to with hearty good-will 
upon the viands, talking faster than they ate, for all shyness 40 
disa})})eared in a moment before Tom’s bottled-beer and hospi- 

N 


ITS 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


table ways. ‘'Here’s Arthur, a regular young town-mouse, 
with a natural taste for the woods, Martin, longing to break his 
neck climbing trees, and with a passion for young snakes.” 

“Well, I say,” sputtered out Martin eagerly, “will you come 
5 to-morrow, both of you, to Caldecott’s Spinney, then, for I 
know of a kestrel’s nest, up a fir tree ? — I can’t get at it with- 
out help; and. Brown, you can climb against any one.” 

“Oh, yes, do let us go,” said Arthur; “ I never saw a hawk’s 
nest, nor a hawk’s egg.” 

lo “You just come down to my study then, and I’ll show you 
five sorts,” said Martin. 

“Ay, the old Madman has got the best collection in the 
house, out-and-out,” said Tom; and then Martin, warming 
with unaccustomed good cheer and the chance of a convert, 
15 launched out into a proposed birds’-nesting campaign, betray- 
ing all manner of important secrets; a golden-crested wren’s 
nest near Butlin’s Mound, a moor-hen who was sitting on nine 
eggs in a pond down the Barby-road, and a kingfisher’s nest in a 
corner of the old canal above Brownsover Mill. He had heard, 
20 he said, that no one had ever got a kingfisher’s nest out per- 
fect, and that the British Museum, or the Government, or 
somebody, had offered lOOT to any one who could bring them 
a nest and eggs not damaged. In the middle of which astound- 
ing announcement, to which the others were listening with 
25 open ears, and already considering the application of the lOOT, 
a knock came to the door, and East’s voice was heard craving 
admittance. 

“There’s Harry,” said Tom; “we’ll let him in — I’ll keep 
him steady, Martin. I thought the old boy would smell out 
30 the supper.” 

The fact was that Tom’s heart had already smitten him for 
not asking his “fidus Achates”® to the feast, although only an 
extempore affair; and though prudence and the desire to get 
Martin and Arthur together alone at first had overcome his 
35 scruples, he was now heartily glad to open the door, broach 
another bottle of beer, and hand over the old ham-knuckle 
to the searching of his old friend’s pocket-knife. 

“ Ah, you greedy vagabonds,” said East, with his mouth full, 
“I knew there was something going on when I saw you cut 
40 off out of Hall so quick with your suppers. What a stunning 
tap, Tom ! You are a wunner for bottling the swipes.” 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


179 


“I’ve had practice enough for the sixth in my time, and it’s 
hard if I haven’t picked up a wrinkle or two for my own benefit.” 

“Well, old Madman, and how goes the birds’-nesting cam- 
paign? How’s Howlett? I expect the young rooks ’ll be 
out in another fortnight, and then my turn comes.” 5 

“There’ll be no young rooks fit for pies for a month yet; 
shows how much you know about it,” rejoined Martin, who, 
though very good friends with East, regarded him with con- 
siderable suspicion for his propensity to practical jokes. 

“ Scud knows nothing and cares for nothing but grub and lo 
mischief,” said Tom; “but young rook pie, specially when 
you’ve had to climb for them, is very pretty eating. However, 

I say. Scud, we’re all going after a hawk’s nest to-morrow, 
in Caldecott’s Spinney; and if you’ll come and behave your- 
self, we’ll have a stunning climb.” 15 

“And a bathe in Aganippe. HoorajM I’m your man.” 

“No, no; no bathing in Aganippe; that’s where our betters 
go.” 

“Well, well, never mind. I’m for the hawk’s nest, and any- 
thing that turns up.” 20 

And the bottled-beer being finished, and his hunger appeased. 
East departed to his study, “that sneak Jones,” as he informed 
them, who had just got into the sixth and occupied the next 
study, having instituted a nightly visitation upon East and 
his chum, to their no small discomfort. 25 

When he was gone, Martin rose to follow, but Tom stopped 
him. “No one goes near New Row,” said he, “so you may 
just as well stop here and do your verses, and then we’ll have 
some more talk. We’ll be no end quiet; besides, no praepostor 
comes here now — we haven’t been visited once this half.” 3° 
So the table was cleared, the cloth restored, and the three 
fell to work with Gradus and dictionary upon the morning’s 
vulgus. 

They were three very fair examples of the way in which 
such tasks were done at Rugby, in the consulship of Plancus.°35 
And doubtless the method is little changed, for there is nothing 
new under the sun, especially at schools. 

Now be it known unto all you boys who are at schools which 
do not rejoice in the time-honoured institution of the Vulgus, 
(commonly supposed to have been established by William of 4 Q 
Wykeham° at Winchester, and imported to Rugby by Arnold 


180 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


more for the sake of the lines which were learnt by heart with 
it than for its own intrinsic value, as I’ve always understood,) 
that it is a short exercise, in Greek or Latin verse, on a given 
subject, the minimum number of lines being fixed for each 
5 form. 

The master of the form gave out at fourth lesson on the 
previous day the subject for next morning’s \ailgus, and at 
first lesson each boy had to bring his vulgus ready to be looked 
over; and with the vulgus, a certain number of lines from one 
lo of the Latin or Greek poets then being construed in the form 
had to be got by heart. The master at first lesson called up 
each boy in the form in order, and put him on in the lines. 
If he couldn’t say them, or seem to say them, by reading them 
off the master’s or some other boy’s book who stood near, he 
15 was sent back, and went below all the boys who did so say 
or seem to say them; but in either case his vulgus was looked 
over by the master, who gave and entered in his book, to the 
credit or discredit of the boy, so many marks as the composition 
merited. At Rugby valgus and lines were the first lesson every 
20 other day in the week, or Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays; 
and as there were thirty-eight weeks in the school year, it is 
obvious to the meanest capacity that the master of each form 
had to set one hundred and fourteen subjects every year, two 
hundred and twenty-eight every two years, and so on. Now, 
25 to persons of moderate invention this was a considerable task, 
and human nature being prone to repeat itself, it will not be 
wondered that the masters gave the same subjects sometimes 
over again after a certain lapse of time. To meet and rebuke 
this bad habit of the masters, the schoolboy mind, with its 
30 accustomed ingenuity, had invented an elaborate system of 
tradition. Almost every boy kept his own vulgus written 
out in a book, and the.se books were duly handed down from 
boy to boy, till (if the tradition has gone on till now) I suppose 
the popular boys, in whose hands bequeathed vulgus-books 
35 have accumulated, are prepared with three or four vv.lguses 
on any subject in heaven or earth, or in “more worlds than 
one,” ° which an unfortunate master can pitch upon. At 
any rate, such lucky fellows had generally one for themselves 
and one for a friend in my time. The only objection to the 
40 traditionary method of doing your vulguses was, the risk that 
t-he successions might have become confused, and so that you 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


181 


and another follower of traditions should show up the same 
identical vulgus some line morning; in which case, when it 
happened, considerable grief was the result — but when did 
such risk hinder boys or men from short cuts and pleasant 
paths ? 5 

Now in the study that night, Tom was the upholder of the 
traditionary method of vulgus doing. He carefully produced 
two large vulgus-books, and began diving into them, and pick- 
ing out a line here, and an ending there (tags as they were 
vulgarly called), till he. had gotten all that he thought he could lo 
make fit. He then proceeded to patch his tags together with 
the help of his Gradus, producing an incongruous and feeble 
result of eight elegiac lines, the minimum quantity for his form, 
and finishing up with two highly moral lines extra, making 
ten in all, which he cribbed entire from one of his books, be- 15 
ginning “ O genus humanum,''°and which he himself must have 
used a dozen times before, whenever an unfortunate or wicked 
hero, of whatever nation or language under the sun, was the 
subject. Indeed he began to have great doubts whether the 
master wouldn’t remember them, and so only threw them in 20 
as extra lines, because in any case they would call off attention 
from the other tags, and if detected, being extra lines, he 
wouldn’t be sent back to do two more in their place, while 
if they passed muster again he would get marks for them. 

The second method, pursued by Martin, may be called the 25 
dogged, or prosaic method. He, no more than Tom, took 
any pleasure in the task, but having no old vulgus-books of 
his own, or any one’s else, could not follow the traditionary 
method, for which too, as Tom remarked, he hadn’t the genius. 
Martin then proceeded to write down eight lines in English, 30 • 
of the most matter-of-fact kind, the first that came into his 
head; and to convert these, line by line, by main force of 
Gradus and dictionary, into Latin that would scan. This 
was all he cared for, to produce eight lines with no false quan- 
tities or concords: whether the words were apt, or what the 35 
sense was, mattered nothing; and, as the article was all new, 
not a line beyond the minimum did the followers of the dogged 
method ever produce. 

The third, or artistic method, was Arthur’s. He considered 
first what point in the character or event which was the subject 4° 
could most neatly be brought out within the limits of a vulgus, 


182 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


trying always to get his idea into the eight lines, but not bind- 
ing himself to ten or even twelve lines if he couldn't 'do this. 
He then set to work, as much as possible without Gradus or 
other help, to clothe his idea in appropriate Latin or Greek, 
5 and would not be satisfied till he had polished it well up with 
the aptest and most poetic words and phrases he could get at, 
A fourth method indeed was used in the school, but of too 
simple a kind to require a comment. It may be called the 
vicarious ° method ; it obtained amongst big boys of lazy or 
lo bullying habits, and consisted simply in making clever boys 
whom they could thrash do their whole vulgus for them, and 
construe it to them afterwards; which latter is a method not 
to be encouraged, and which I strongly advise you all not to 
practise. Of the others, you will find the traditionary most 
15 troublesome, unless you can steal your vulguses whole (experto 
crede),° and that the artistic method pays the best both in 
marks and other ways. 

The vulguses being finished by nine o’clock, and Martin 
having rejoiced above measure in the abundance of light, and 
20 of Gradus and dictionary, and other conveniences almost 
unknown to him for getting through the work, and having 
been pressed by Arthur to come and do his verses there when- 
ever he liked, the three boys went down to Martin’s den, and 
Arthur was initiated into the lore of birds’ eggs, to his great 
25 delight. The exquisite colouring and forms astonished and 
charmed him, who had scarcely ever seen any but a hen’s 
egg or an ostrich’s, and by the time he was lugged away to 
bed he had learned the names of at least twenty sorts, and 
dreamt of the glorious perils of tree-climbing and that he had 
■ 30 found a roc’s egg in the island as big as Sinbad’s® and clouded 
like a tit-lark’s, in blowing which Martin and he had nearly 
been drowned in the yolk. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BIRD-FANCIERS 

“I have found out a gift for my fair, 

I have found where the wood-pigeons breed : 

But let me the plunder forbear, 

She would say ’twas a barbarous deed." — Rowe. 

“And now, my lad, take them five shilling, 

And on my advice in future think ; 

So Billy pouched them all so willing. 

And got that night disguised in drink." — Ms. Ballad. 

The next morning at first lesson Tom was turned back in 
his lines, and so had to wait till the second round, while Martin 
and Arthur said theirs all right and got out of school at once. 
When Tom got out and ran down to breakfast at Harrowell’s 
they were missing, and Stumps informed him that they had s 
swallowed down their breakfasts and gone off together, where, he 
couldn’t say. Tom hurried over his own breakfast and went 
first to Martin’s study and then to his own, but no signs of the 
missing boys were to be found. He felt half angry and jealous 
of Martin — Where could they be gone ? lo 

He learnt second lesson with East and the rest in no very good 
temper, and then went out into the quadrangle. About ten 
minutes before school Martin and Arthur arrived in the quad- 
rangle breathless; and, catching sight of him, Arthur rushed 
up, all excitement, and with a bright glow on his face. iS 

“Oh, Tom, look here!” cried he, holding out three moor- 
hen’s eggs; “we’ve been down the Barby-road to the pool 
Martin told us of last night, and just see what we’ve got.” 

Tom wouldn’t be pleased, and only looked out for some- 
thing to find fault with. 20 


183 


184 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


“Why, young un,’' said he, “what have you been after? 
You don't mean to say you've been wading? " 

The tone of reproach made poor little Arthur shrink up in 
a moment and look piteous, and Tom with a shrug of his 
5 shoulders turned his anger on Martin. 

“Well, I didn't think, Madman, that you'd have been such 
a muff as to let him be getting wet through at this time of day. 
You might have done the wading yourself." 

“So 1 did, of course, only he would come in too, to see the 
lo nest. We left six eggs in ; they'll be hatched in a day or two." 

“Hang the eggs !" said Tom; “a fellow can't turn his back 
for a moment but all his work's undone. He’ll be laid up for 
a week for this precious lark. I’ll be bound." 

“Indeed, Tom, now," pleaded Arthur, “my feet ain't wet, 
15 for Martin made me take off my shoes and stockings and 
trousers.” 

“But they are wet, and dirty too — can’t I see?" answered 
Tom; “and you'll be called up and floored when the master 
sees what a state you’re in. You haven’t looked at second 
20 lesson, you know." Oh Tom, you old humbug! you to be 
upbraiding any one with not learning their lessons. If you 
hadn’t been floored yourself now at first lesson, do you mean 
to say you wouldn’t have been with them? and you’ve taken 
away all poor little Arthur’s joy and pride in his first birds’ 
25 eggs, and he goes and puts them down in the study, and takes 
down his books with a sigh, thinking he has done something 
horribly wrong, whereas he has learnt on in advance much 
more than will be done at second lesson. 

But the old Madman hasn’t, and gets called up and makes 
30 some frightful shots, losing about ten places, and all but getting 
floored. This somewhat appeases Tom’s wrath, and by the 
end of the lesson he has regained his temper. And afterwards 
in their study he begins to get right again, as he watches 
Arthur’s intense joy at seeing Martin blowing the eggs and 
35 glueing them carefully on to bits of cardboard, and notes the 
anxious loving looks which the little fellow casts sidelong at 
him. And then he thinks, “What an ill-tempered beast I 
am ! Here’s just what I was wishing for last night come about, 
and I’m spoiling it all," and in another five minutes has swal- 
40 lowed the last mouthful of his bile, and is repaid by seeing his 
little sensitive plant expand again, and sun itself in his smiles. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


185 


After dinner the Madman is busy with the preparations for 
their expedition, fitting new straps on to his climbing-irons, 
filling large pill-boxes with cotton-wool, and sharpening East’s 
small axe. They carry all their munitions into calling-over, 
and directly afterwards, having dodged such prjepostors as 5 
are on the lookout for fags at cricket, the four set off at a smart 
trot down the Lawford footpath straight for Caldecott’s Spinney 
and the hawk’s nest. 

Martin leads the way in high feather ; it is quite a new sen- 
sation to him, getting companions, and he finds it very pleas- 10 
ant, and means to show them all manner of proofs of his science 
and skill. Brown and East may be better at cricket and foot- 
ball and games, thinks he, but out in the fields and woods 
see if I can’t teach them something. He has taken the leader- 
ship already, and strides away in front with his climbing-irons 15 
strapped under one arm, his pecking-bag under the other, and 
his pockets and hat full of pill-boxes, cotton-wool, and other 
etceteras. Each of the others carries a pecking-bag, and East 
his hatchet. 

When they had crossed three or four fields without a check, 20 
Arthur began to lag; and Tom seeing this shouted to Martin 
to pull up a bit: “We ain’t out Hare-and-hounds — what’s 
the good of grindirg on at this rate?” 

“There’s the Spinney,” said Martin, pulling up on the brow 
of a slope at the bottom of which lay Lawford brook, and 25 
pointing to the top of the opposite slope; “the nest is in one 
of those high fir trees at this end. And down by the brook 
there I know of a sedge-bird’s nest; we’ll go and look at it 
coming back.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t let us stop,” said Arthur, who was 30 
getting excited at the sight of the w^ood ; so they broke into 
a trot again, and were soon across the brook, up the slope, 
and into the Spinney. Here they advanced as noiselessly as 
possible, lest keepers or other enemies should be about, and 
stopped at the foot of a tall fir, at the top of which Martin 35 
pointed out with pride the kestrel’s nest, the object of their 
quest. 

“ Oh, where ! which is it ? ” asks Arthur, gaping up in the air, 
and having the most vague idea of what it would be like. 

“There, don’t you see?” said East, pointing to a lump of 40 
mistletoe in the next tree, which was a beech; he saw that 


186 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


Martin and Tom were busy with the climbing-irons, and couldn’t 
resist the temptation of hoaxing. Arthur stared and wondered 
more than ever. 

“Well, how curious! it doesn’t look a bit like what I ex- 
5pected,” said he. 

“Very odd birds, kestrels,” said East, looking waggishly 
at his victim, who was still star-gazing. 

“But I thought it was in a fir tree?” objected Arthur. 

“Ah, don’t you know? that’s a new sort of fir which old 
lo Caldecott brought from the Himalayas.” 

“Really!” said Arthur; “I’m glad I know that — how un- 
like our firs they are ! They do very well too here, don’t they? 
the Spinney’s full of them.” 

“What’s that humbug he’s telling you?” cried Tom, looking 
15 up, having caught the word Himalayas, and suspecting what 
East was after. 

“Only about this fir,” said Arthur, putting his hand on the 
stem of the beech. 

“Fir!” shouted Tom, “why, you don’t mean to say, young 
20 un, you don’t know a beech when you see one?” 

Poor little Arthur looked terribly ashamed, and East ex- 
ploded in laughter which made the wood ring. 

“I’ve hardly ever seen any trees,” faltered Arthur. 

“ What a shame to hoax him. Scud !” cried Martin. “ Never 
25 mind, Arthur, you shall know more about trees than he does 
in a week or two.” 

“And isn’t that the kestrel’s nest then?” asked Arthur. 

“ That ! why, that’s a piece of mistletoe. There’s the nest, 
that lump of sticks up this fir.” 

30 “ Don’t believe him, Arthur,” struck in the incorrigible East; 

“I just saw an old magpie go out of it.” 

Martin did not deign to reply to this sally, except by a grunt, 
as he buckled the last buckle of his climbing-irons ; and Arthur 
looked reproachfully at East without speaking. 

35 But now came the tug of war. It was a very difficult tree 
to climb until the branches were reached, the first of which 
was some fourteen feet up, for the trunk was too large at the 
bottom to be swarmed ; in fact, neither of the boys could reach 
more than half round it with their arms. Martin and Tom, 
40 both of whom had irons on, tried it without success at first; 
the fir bark broke away where they stuck the irons in as soon 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


187 


as they leant any weight on their feet, and the grip of their 
arms wasn’t enough to keep them up; so, after getting up 
three or four feet, down they came slithering to the ground, 
barking their arms and faces. They were furious, and East 
sat by laughing and shouting at each failure, '‘Two to one on 5 
the old magpie !” 

“We must try a pyramid,” said Tom at last. “Now, Scud, 
you lazy rascal, stick yourself against the tree !” 

“ I dare say ! and have you standing on my shoulders with 
the irons on: what do you think my skin’s made of?” How- 10 
ever, up he got, and leant against the tree, putting his head 
down and clasping it with his arms as far as he could. “Now 
then. Madman,” said Tom, “you next.” 

“No, I’m lighter than you; you go next.” So Tom got 
on East’s shoulders, and grasped the tree above, and then 15 
Martin scrambled up on to Tom’s shoulders, amidst the tot- 
terings and groanings of the pyramid, and, with a spring which 
sent his supporters howling to the ground, clasped the stem 
some ten feet up, and remained clinging. For a moment or 
two they thought he couldn’t get up, but then, holding on 20 
with arms and teeth, he worked first one iron, then the other, 
firmly into the bark, got another grip with his arms, and in 
another minute had hold of the lowest branch. 

“All up with the old magpie now,” said East; and, after a 
minute’s re^t, up went Martin, hand over hand, watched by 25 
Arthur with fearful eagerness. 

“Isn’t it very dangerous?” said he. 

“Not a bit,” answered Tom; “you can’t hurt if you only 
get good hand-hold. Try every branch with a good pull 
before you trust it, and then up you go.” 30 

Martin was now amongst the small branches close to the 
nest, and away dashed the old bird, and soared up above the 
trees, watching the intruder. 

“All right — four eggs!” shouted he. 

“Take ’em all!” shouted East; “that’ll be one apiece.” 35 

“No, no ! leave one, and then she won’t care,” said Tom. 

We boys had an idea that birds couldn’t count and were quite 
content as long as you left one egg. I hope it is so. 

Martin carefully put one egg into each of his boxes and the 
third into his mouth, the only other place of safety, and came 40 
down like a lamplighter. All went well till he was within ten 


188 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


feet of the ground, when, as the trunk enlarged, his hold got 
less and less firm, and at last down he came with a run, tum- 
bling on to his back on the turf, spluttering and spitting out the 
remains of the great egg, which had broken by the jar of his fall, 
5 “Ugh, ugh! something to drink — ugh! it was addled,’’ 
spluttered he, while the wood rang again with the merry 
laughter of East and Tom. 

Then they examined the prizes, gathered up their things, 
and went off to the brook, where Martin swallowed huge 
lo draughts of water to get rid of the taste ; and they visited the 
sedge-bird’s nest, and from thence struck across the country 
in high glee, beating the hedges and brakes as they went along; 
and Arthur at last, to his intense delight, was allowed to climb 
a small hedgerow oak for a magpie’s nest with Tom, who kept 
15 all round him like a mother, and showed him where to hold and 
how to throw his weight; and though he was in a great fright, 
didn’t show it; and was applauded by all for his lissomness. 

They crossed a road soon afterwards, and there close to them 
lay a heap of charming pebbles. 

20 “ Look here,” shouted East, ‘‘here’s luck ! I’ve been longing 

for some good honest pecking this half-hour. Let’s fill the 
bags, and have no more of this foozling bird’s-nesting.” 

No one objected, so each boy filled the fustian bag he carried 
full of stones: they crossed into the next field, Tom and East 
25 taking one side of the hedges, and the other two the other side. 
Noise enough they made certainly, but it was too early in the 
season for the young birds, and the old birds were too strong 
on the wing for our young marksmen, and flew out of shot after 
the first discharge. But it was great fun, rushing along the 
hedgerows, and discharging stone after stone at blackbirds 
and chaffinches, though no result in the shape of slaughtered 
birds was obtained ; and Arthur soon entered into it, and 
rushed to head back the birds, and shouted, and threw, and 
tumbled into ditches and over and through hedges, as wild as 
35 the Madman himself. 

Presently the party, in full cry after an old blackbird (who 
was evidently used to the thing and enjoyed the fun, for he 
would wait till they came close to him and then fly on for forty 
yards or so, and, with an impudent flicker of his tail, dart into 
40 the depths of the quickset), came beating down a high double 
hedge, two on each side. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


189 


“There he is again,” “Head him,” “Let drive,” “I had him 
there,” “Take care where you’re throwing. Madman,” the 
shouts might have been heard a quarter of a mile off. They 
were heard some two hundred yards off by a farmer and two 
of his shepherds, who were doctoring sheep in a fold in the next 5 
field. 

Now, the farmer in question rented a house and yard situate 
at the end of the field in which the young bird-fanciers had 
arrived, which house and yard he didn’t occupy or keep any 
one else in. Nevertheless, like a brainless and unreasoning 10 
Briton, he persisted in maintaining on the premises a large 
stock of cocks, hens, and other poultry. Of course, all sorts 
of depredators visited the place from time to time: foxes and 
gypsies wrought havoc in the night; while in the daytime, 1 
regret to have to confess that visits from the Rugby boys, and 15 
consequent disappearances of ancient and respectable fowls, 
were not unfrequent. Tom and East had during the period 
of their outlawry visited the barn in question for felonious 
purposes, and on one occasion had conquered and slain a duck 
there, and borne away the carcase triumphantly, hidden in 20 
their handkerchiefs. However, they were sickened of the 
practice by the trouble and anxiety which the w'retched duck’s 
body caused them. They carried it to Sally Harrowell’s, 
in hopes of a good supper; but she, after examining it, made 
a long face, and refused to dress or have anything to do with 25 
it. Then they took it into their study, and began plucking 
it themselves; but what to do with the feathers, where to hide 
them ? 

“Good gracious, Tom, what a lot of feathers a duck has!” 
groaned East, holding a bag full in his hand, and looking dis- 30 
consolately at the carcase, not yet half plucked. 

“And I do think he’s getting high, too, already,” said Tom, 
smelling at him cautiously, “so w'e must ‘finish him up soon.” 

“Yes, all very well, but how are w^e to cook him? I’m sure 
I ain’t going to try it on in the hall or passages; we can’t afford 35 
to be roasting ducks about, our character’s too bad.” 

“I wish we were rid of the brute,” said Tom, throwing him 
on the table in disgust. And after a day or two more it became 
clear that got rid of he must be ; so they packed him and sealed 
him up in brown paper, and put him in the cupboard of an 40 
unoccupied study, where he was found in the holidays by the 
matron, a grewsome body. 


190 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


They had never been duck-hunting there since, but others 
had, and the bold yeoman was very sore on the subject, and 
bent on making an example of the first boys he could catch. 
So he and his shepherds crouched behind the hurdles, and 
5 watched the party, who were approaching all unconscious. 
Why should that old guinea-fowl be lying out in the hedge 
just at this particular moment of all the year? Who can say? 
Guinea-fowls always are — so are all other things, animals, 
and persons, requisite for getting one into scrapes, always ready 
lo when any mischief can come of them. At any rate, just under 
East’s nose popped out the old guinea-hen, scuttling along and 
shrieking “Come back, come back,” at the top of her voice. 
Either of the other three might perhaps have withstood the 
temptation, but East first lets drive the stone he has in his 
15 hand at her, and then rushes to turn her into the hedge again. 
He succeeds, and then they are all at it for dear life, up and 
down the hedge in full cry, the “Come back, come back,” 
getting shriller and fainter every minute. 

Meantime, the farmer and his men steal over the hurdles 
20 and creep down the hedge towards the scene of action. They 
are almost within a stone’s throw of Martin, who is pressing 
the unlucky chase hard, when Tom catches sight of them, and 
sings out, “ Louts, ’ware louts, your side ! Madman, look 
ahead!” and then catching hold of Arthur, hurries him away 
25 across the field towards Rugby as hard as they can tear. Had 
he been by himself, he would have stayed to see it out with the 
others, but now his heart sinks and all his pluck goes. The 
idea of being led up to the Doctor with Arthur for bagging 
fowls quite unmans and takes half the run out of him. 

30 However, no boys are more able to take care of themselves 
than East and Martin; they dodge the pursuers, slip through 
a gap, and come pelting after Tom and Arthur, whom they 
catch up in no time; •the farmer and his men are making good 
running about a field behind. Tom wishes to himself that 
35 they had made off in any other direction, but now they are all 
in for it together, and must see it out. 

“You won’t leave the young un, will you?” says he, as they 
haul little Arthur, already losing wind from the fright, through 
the next hedge. “Not we,” is the answer from both. The 
40 next hedge is a stiff one; the pursuers gain horribly on them, 
and they only just pull Arthur through, with two great rents 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


191 


in his trousers, as the foremost shepherd comes up on the other 
side. As they start into the next field, they are aware of two 
figures walking down the footpath in the middle of it, and 
recognize Holmes and Diggs taking a constitutional. Those 
good-natured fellows immediately shout “On.” “Let’s go 5 
to them and surrender,” pants Tom. — Agreed. — And in 
another minute the four boys, to the great astonishment of 
those worthies, rush breathless up to Holmes and Diggs, who 
pull up to see what is the matter; and then the whole is ex- 
plained by the appearance of^the farmer and his men, who unite 10 
their forces and bear down on the knot of boys. 

There is no time to explain, and Tom’s heart beats frightfully 
quick, as he ponders, “Will they stand by us?” 

The farmer makes a rush at East and collars him; and that 
young gentleman, with unusual discretion, instead of kicking 15 
his shins, looks appealingly at Holmes, and stands still. 

“Hullo there, not so fast,” says Holmes, who is bound to 
stand up for them till they are proved in the wrong. “Now 
what’s all this about?” 

“I’ve got the young varmint at last, have I,” pants the farmer; 20 
“why they’ve been a-skulking about my yard and stealing 
my fowls, that’s where ’tis; and if I doan’t have they flogged 
for it, every one on ’em, my name ain’t Thompson.” 

Holmes looks grave, and Diggs’s face falls. They are quite 
ready to fight, no boys in the school more so; but they are 25 
praepostors, and understand their office, and can’t uphold 
unrighteous causes. 

“ i haven’t been near his old barn this half,” cries East. 

“ Nor I,” “nor I,” chime in Tom and Martin. 

“Now, Willum, didn’t you see ’em there last week?” 30 

“Ees, I seen ’em sure enough,” says Willum, grasping a prong 
he carried, and preparing for action. 

The boys deny stoutly, and Willum is driven to admit that, 

“if it worn’t they ’twas chaps as like ’em as two peas’n;” and 
“ leastways he’ll swear he see’d them two in the yard last 35 
Martinmas,” indicating East and Tom. 

Holmes has had time to meditate. “Now, sir,” says he to 
Willum, “you see you can’t remember what you have seen, 
and I believe the boys.” 

“I doan’t care,” blusters the farmer; “they was arter my 40 
fowls to-day, that’s enough for I. Willum, you catch hold o’ 


192 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


t’other chap. They’ve been a-sneaking about this two hours, 
I tells ’ee,” shouted he, as Holmes stands between Martin and 
Willum, “and have druv a matter of a dozen young pullets 
pretty nigh to death.” 

5 “Oh, there’s a whacker!” cried East; “we haven’t been 
within a hundred yards of his barn; we haven’t been up here 
above ten minutes, and we’ve seen nothing but a tough old 
guinea-hen, who ran like a greyhound.” 

“Indeed, that’s all true. Holmes, upon my honour,” added 
loTom; “we weren’t after his fowls; guinea-hen ran out of the 
hedge under our feet, and we’ve seen nothing else.” 

“ Drat their talk. Thee catch hold o’ t’other, Willum, and 
come along wi’ ’un.” 

“Farmer Thompson,” said Holmes, warning off Willum and 
15 the prong with his stick, while Diggs faced the other shepherd, 
cracking his fingers like pistol shots, “ now listen to reason — ■ 
the boys haven’t been after your fowls, that’s plain.” 

“Tell ’ee I seed ’em. Who be you, I should like to know?” 

“Never you mind, Farmer,” answered flolmes. “And now 
20 I’ll just tell you what it is — you ought to be ashamed of your- 
self for leaving all that poultry about, with no one to watch it, 
so near the School. You deserve to have it all stolen. So if 
you choose to come up to the Doctor with them, I shall go with 
you, and tell him what I think of it.” 

25 The farmer began to take Holmes for a master; besides, he 
wanted to get back to his flock. Corporal punishment was 
. out of the question, the odds were too great; so he began to 
hint at paying for the damage. Arthur jumped at this, offer- 
ing to pay anything, and the farmer immediately valued the 
30 guinea-hen at half-a-sovereign. 

“Half-a-sovereign !” cried East, now released from the 
farmer’s grip; “well, that is a good one! the old hen ain’t 
hurt a bit, and she’s seven years old, I know, and as tough as 
whipcord; she couldn’t lay another egg to save her life.” 

35 It was at last settled that they should pay the farmer two 
shillings, and his man one shilling, and so the matter ended, 
to the unspeakable relief of Tom, who hadn’t been able to say 
a word, being sick at heart at the idea of what the Doctor would 
think of him: and now the whole party of boys marched off 
40 down the footpath towards Rugby. Holmes, who was one 
of the best boys in the School, began to improve the occasion. 
“Now, you youngsters,” said he, as he marched along in the 


TOM brown’s school BAYS 


193 


middle of them, ^‘mind this ; you’re very well out of this scrape. 
Don’t you go near Thompson’s barn again, do you hear?” 

Profuse promises from all, especially East. 

“Mind, I don’t ask questions,” went on Mentor, “but I 
rather think some of you have been there before this after his 5 
chickens. Now, knocking over other people’s chickens, and 
running off with them, is stealing. It’s a nasty word, but that’s 
the plain English of it. If the chickens were dead and lying 
in a shop, you wouldn’t take them, I know that, any more than 
you would apples out of Griffith’s basket; but there’s no real lo 
difference between chickens running about and apples on a 
tree, and the same articles in a shop. I wish our morals were 
sounder in such matters. There’s nothing so mischievous as 
these school distinctions, which jumble up right and wrong, 
and justify things in us for which poor boys would be sent to 15 
prison.” And good old Holmes delivered his soul on the walk 
home of many wise sayings, and, as the song says — 

“Gie’d ’em a sight of good ad wee ” — 

which same sermon sank into them all, more or less, and very 
penitent they were for several hours. But truth compels me 20 
to admit that East at any rate forgot it all in a week, but 
remembered the insult which had been put upon him by 
Farmer Thompson, and with the Tadpole and other hair- 
brained youngsters, committed a raid on the barn soon after- 
wards, in which they were caught by the shepherds and severely 25 
handled, besides having to pay eight shillings, all the money 
they had in the world, to escape being taken up to the Doctor. 

Martin became a constant inmate in the joint study from 
this time, and Arthur took him so kindly that Tom couldn’t 
resist slight fits of jealousy, which however he managed to keep 30 
to himself. Tlie kestrel’s eggs had not been broken, strange to 
say, and formed the nucleus of Arthur’s collection, at which 
Martin worked heart and soul; and introduced Arthur to 
Ilowlett the bird-fancier, and instructed him in the rudiments 
of the art of stuffing. In token of his gratitude, Arthur allowed 35 
Martin to tattoo a small anchor on one of his wrists, which 
decoration, however, he carefully concealed from Tom, Be- 
fore the end of the half-year he had trained into a bold climber 
and good runner, and, as Martin had foretold, knew twice 
as much about trees, birds, flowers, and many other things, 40 
as our good-hearted and facetious young friend Harry East, 
o 


CHAPTER V 


THE FIGHT 

“Siirgebat Macnevisius® ; 

Et mox jactabat ultro, 

Pugnabo tua gratia 

Feroci hoc Macwoltro.” — Etonian. 

There is a certain sort of fellow, we who are used to study- 
ing boys all know him well enough, of whom you can predicate 
with almost positive certainty, after he has been a month at 
school, that he is sure to have a fight, and with almost equal 
5 certainty that he will have but one. Tom Brown was one of 
these; and as it is our. well-weighted intention to give a full, 
true, and correct account of Tom’s only single combat with 
a schoolfellow in the manner of our old friend Bell’s Life° let 
tliose young jiersons whose stomachs are not strong, or who 
lo think a good set-to with the weapons which God has given us 
all, an uncivilized, unchristian, or ungentlemanly affair, just 
skip this chapter at once, for it won’t be to their taste. 

It was not at all usual in those days for two Schoolhouse 
boys to have a fight. Of course there were exceptions, when 
15 some cross-grained hard-headed fellow came up who would 
never be happy unless he was quarrelling with his nearest 
neighbours, or when there was some class-dispute, between 
the fifth-form and the fags for instance, which required blood- 
letting; and a champion was picked out on each side tacitly, 
20 who settled the matter by a good hearty mill.® But for the 
most part, the constant use of those surest keepers of the peace, 
the boxing-gloves, kept the Schoolhouse boys from fighting 
one another. Two or three nights in every week the gloves 
were brought out, either in the Hall or fifth-form room ; and 
25 every boy who was ever likely to fight at all knew all his 

194 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


195 


neighbours’ prowess perfectly well, and could tell to a nicety 
what chance he would have in a stand-up fight with any other 
boy in the house. But of course no such experience could be 
gotten as regarded boys in other houses; and as most of the 
other houses were more or less jealous of the Schoolhouse, 5 
collisions were frequent. 

After all, what would life be without fighting, I should like 
to know? From the cradle to the grave, fighting, rightly 
understood, is the business, the real, highest, honestest business, 
of every son of man. Every one who is worth his salt has his 10 
enernies, who must be beaten, be they evil thoughts and habits 
in himself or spiritual wickedness in high places, or Russians, 
or Border-ruffians, or Bill, Tom, or Harry, who will not let 
him live his life in quiet till he has thrashed them. 

It is no good for Quakers, or any other body of men, to up- 15 
lift their voices against fighting. Human nature is too strong 
for them, and they don’t follow their own precepts. Every 
soul of them is doing his own piece of fighting, somehow and 
somewhere. The world might be a better world without 
fighting, for anything I know, but it wouldn’t be our world ; 20 
and therefore I am dead against crying peace when there is 
no peace, and isn’t meant to be. I am as sorry as any man 
to see folk fighting the wrong people and the wrong things, 
but I’d a deal sooner see them doing that, than that they should 
have no fight in them. So having recorded, and being about 25 
to record, my hero’s fights of all sorts, with all sorts of enemies, 

I shall now proceed to give an account of his passage-at-arms 
with the only one of his schoolfellows whom he ever had to 
encounter in this manner. 

It was drawing towards the close of Arthur’s first half-year, 30 
and the May evenings were lengthening out. Locking-up was 
not till eight o’clock, and everybody was beginning to talk 
about what he would do in the holidays. The shell, ° in which 
form all our dramatis personae ° now are, were reading amongst 
other things the last book of Homer’s Iliad, and had worked 35 
through it as far as the speeches of the women over Hector’s 
body. It is a whole schoolday, and four or five of the School- 
house boys (amongst whom are Arthur, Tom, and East) are 
preparing third lesson together. They have finished the 
regulation forty lines, and are for the most part getting very 40 
tired, notwithstanding the exquisite pathos of Helen’s lamen- 


196 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


tation. And now several long four-syllabled words come 
together, and the boy with the dictionary strikes work. 

“I am not going to look out any more words,’’ says he; 
“we’ve done the quantity. Ten to one we shan’t get so far. 

5 Let’s go out into the close.” 

“Come along, boys,” cries East, always ready to lead the 
grind, as he called it; “our old coach is laid up, you know, 
and we shall have one of the new masters, who’s sure to go slow 
and let us down easy.” 

10 So an adjournment to the close was carried nem. con.,° little 
Arthur not daring to uplift his voice; but, being deeply in- 
terested in what they were reading, stayed quietly behind, and 
learnt on for his own pleasure. 

As East had said, the regular master of the form was unwell, 
15 and they were to be heard by one of the new masters, quite 
a young man, who had only just left the University. Cer- 
tainly it would be hard lines, if, by dawdling as much as possible 
in coming in and taking their places, entering into long-winded 
explanations of what was the usual course of the regular master 
20 of the form, and others of the stock contrivances of boys for 
wasting time in school, they could not spin out the lesson so 
that he should not work them through more than the forty 
lines; as to which quantity there was a perpetual fight going 
on between the master and his form, the latter insisting, and 
2 5 enforcing by passive resistance, that it was the prescribed 
quantity of Homer for a shell lesson, the former that there was 
no fixed quantity, but that they must always be ready to go 
on to fifty or sixty lines if there were time within the hour. 
However, notwithstanding all their efforts, the new master 
30 got on horribly quick ; he seemed to have the bad taste to be 
really interested in the lesson, and to be trying to work them 
up into something like appreciation of it, giving them good 
spirited English words, instead of the wretched bald stuff 
into which they rendered poor old Homer; and construing 
35 over each piece himself to them, after each boy, to show them 
how it should be done. 

Now the clock strikes the three-quarters; there is only a 
quarter of an hour more : but the forty lines are all but done. 
So the boys, one after another, who are called up, stick more 
40 and more and make balder and ever more bald work of it. 
The poor young master is pretty near beat by this time, and 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL BAYS 


197 


feels ready to knock his head against the wall, or his fingers 
against somebody else’s head. So he gives up altogether the 
lower and middle parts of the form, and looks round in despair 
at the boys on the top bench, to see if there is one out of whom 
he can strike a spark or two, and who will be too chivalrous 5 
to murder the most beautiful utterances of the most beautiful 
woman of the old world. His eye rests on Arthur, and he 
calls him up to finish construing Helen's speech. Whereupon 
all the other boys draw long breaths, and begin to stare about 
and take it easy. They are all safe; Arthur is the head of the lo 
form, and sure to be able to construe, and that will tide on 
safely till the hour strikes. 

Arthur proceeds to read out the passage in Greek before con- 
struing it, as the custom is. Tom, who isn't paying much 
attention, is suddenly caught by the falter in his voice as he 15 
reads the two lines — 

dXXa ail rbv 7 ’ iirieaai TrapaKpdixevos KaTipvKeiy° 

2^ T dyavocppoavvri Kal aois dyavoTs errhaaiv. 

He looks up at Arthur. “Why, bless us," thinks he, “what 
can be the matter with the young un ? He's never going to 20 
get floored. He's sure to have learnt to the end." Next 
moment he is reassured by the spirited tone in which Arthur 
begins construing, and betakes himself to drawing dogs' heads 
in his note-book, while the master, evidently enjoying the 
change, turns his back on the middle bench and stands before 25 
Arthur, beating a sort of time with his hand and foot, and 
saying, “Yes, yes," “very well," as Arthur goes on. 

But as he nears the fatal two lines, Tom catches that falter 
and again looks up. He sees that there is something the matter, 
Arthur can hardly get on at all. What can it be? 30 

Suddenly at this point Arthur breaks down altogether, and 
fairly bursts out crying, and dashes the cuff of his jacket across 
his eyes, blushing up to the roots of his hair, and feeling as if 
he should like to go down suddenly through the floor. The 
whole form are taken aback; most of them stare stupidly at 35 
him, while those who are gifted with presence of mind find their 
places and look steadily at their books, in hopes of not catch- 
ing the master's eye and getting called up in Arthur's place. 

The master looks puzzled for a moment, and then seeing, 
as the fact is, that the boy is really affected to tears by the most 40 


198 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


touching thing in Homer, perhaps in all profane poetry put 
together, steps up to him and lays his hand kindly on his 
shoulder, saying, “ Never mind, my little man, you’ve construed 
very well. Stop a minute, there’s no hurry.” 

5 Now, as luck would have it, there sat next above Tom on 
that day, in the middle bench of the form, a big boy, by name 
Williams, generally supposed to be the cock of the shell, there- 
fore of all the school below the fifths. The small boys, who 
are great speculators on the prowess of their elders, used to 
lo hold forth to one another about Williams’s great strength, and 
to discuss whether East or Brown would take a licking from 
him. He was called Slogger Williams, from the force with 
which it was supposed he could hit. In the main, he was a 
rough good-natured fellow enough, but very much alive to 
15 his own dignity. He reckoned himself the king of the form, 
and kept up his position with the strong hand, especially in 
the matter of forcing boys not to construe more than the legiti- 
mate forty lines. He had already grunted and grumbled to 
himself, when Arthur went on reading beyond the forty lines. 
20 But now that he had broken down just in the middle of all the 
long words, the Slogger’s wrath was fairly roused. 

“ Sneaking little brute,” muttered he, regardless of prudence, 
“clapping on the waterworks just in the hardest place; see 
if I don’t punch his head after fourth lesson.” 

25 “Whose?” said Tom, to whom the remark seemed to be 
addressed. 

“ Why, that little sneak Arthur’s,” replied Williams. 

“No, you shan’t,” said Tom. 

“Hullo!” exclaimed Williams, looking at Tom with great 
30 surprise for a moment, and then giving him a sudden dig in 
the ribs with his elbow, which sent Tom’s books flying on to 
the floor, and called the attention of the master, who turned 
suddenly round, and seeing the state of things, said — 

“Williams, go down three places, and then go on.” 

35 The Slogger found his legs very slowly, and proceeded to go 
below Tom and two other boys with great disgust, and then, 
turning round and facing tlie master, said, “I haven’t learnt 
any more, sir: our lesson is only forty lines.” 

“Is that so?” said the master, appealing generally to the 
40 top bench. No answer. 

“ Who is the head boy of the form?” said he, waxing wroth. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


199 


“Arthur, sir,” answered three or four boys, indicating our 
friend. 

“Oh, your name’s Arthur. Well now, what is the length 
of your regular lesson?” 

Arthur hesitated a moment, and then said, “We call it only 5 
forty lines, sir.” 

“How do you mean, you call it?” 

“Well, sir, Mr. Graham says we ain’t to stop there, when 
there’s time to construe more.” 

“I understand,” said the master. “Williams, go down 10 
three more places, and write me out the lesson in Greek and 
English. And now, Arthur, finish construing.” 

“Oh! would I be in Arthur’s shoes after fourth lesson?” 
said the little boys to one another; but Arthur finished Helen’s 
speech without any further catastrophe, and the clock struck 15 
four, which ended third lesson. 

Another hour was occupied in preparing and saying fourth 
lesson, during which Williams was bottling up his wrath; and 
when five struck, and the lessons for the day were over, he 
prepared to take summary vengeance on the innocent cause of 20 
his misfortune. 

Tom was detained in school a few minutes after the rest, 
and on coming out into the quadrangle, the first thing he saw 
was a small ring of boys, applauding Williams, who was holding 
Arthur by the collar. 25 

“There, you young sneak,” said he, giving Arthur a cuff 
on the head with his other hand, “what made you say that — ” 

“Hullo!” said Tom, shouldering into the crowd, “you drop 
that, Williams; you shan’t touch him.” 

“Who’ll stop me?” said the Slogger, raising his hand again. 30 

“I,” said Tom; and suiting the action to the word, struck 
the arm which held Arthur’s arm so sharply, that the Slogger 
dropped it with a start, and turned the full current of his wrath 
on Tom. 

“Will you fight?” 35 

“Yes, of course.” 

“Huzza, there’s going to be a fight between Slogger Williams 
and Tom Brown !” 

The news ran like wildfire about, and many boys who were 
on their way to tea at their several houses turned back, and 4° 
sought the back of the chapel, where the fights come off. 


200 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“Just run and tell East to come and back me/’ said Tom 
to a small Schoolhouse boy, who was off like a rocket to Har- 
ro well’s, just stopping for a moment to poke his head into the 
Schoolhouse hall, where the lower boys were already at tea, 
5 and sing out, “Fight! Tom Brown and Slogger Williams.” 

Up start half the boys at once, leaving bread, eggs, butter, 
sprats,® and all the rest to take care of themselves. The greater 
part of the remainder follow in a minute, after swallowing 
their tea, carrying their food in their hands to consume as 
lo they go. Three or four only remain, who steal the butter of 
the more impetuous, and make to themselves an unctuous 
feast. 

In another minute East and Martin tear through the quad- 
rangle, carrying a sponge, and arrive at the scene of action just 
15 as the combatants are beginning to strip. Tom felt he had 
got his work cut out for him, as he stripped off his jacket, 
waistcoat, and braces. East tied his handkerchief round his 
waist, and rolled up his shirt-sleeves for him : “ Now, old boy, 
don’t open your mouth to say a word, or try to help yourself 
20a bit, we’ll do all that; you keep all your breath and strength 
for the Slogger.” Martin meanwhile folded the clothes, and 
put them under the chapel rails; and now Tom, with East 
to handle him and Martin to give him a knee, steps out on the 
turf, and is ready for all that may come : and here is the Slogger 
25 too, all stripped, and thirsting for the fray. 

It doesn’t look a fair match at first glance: Williams is 
nearly two inches taller, and probably a long year older than 
his opponent, and he is very strongly made about the arms and 
shoulders ; “ peels well,” as the little knot of big fifth-form boys, 
30 the amateurs, say; who stand outside the ring of little boys, 
looking complacently on, but taking no a^ive part in the pro- 
ceedings. But down below he is not so good by any means; 
no spring from the loins, and feeblish, not to say shipwrecky, 
about the knees. Tom, on the contrary, though not half so 
35 strong in the arms, is good all over, straight, hard, and springy, 
from neck to ankle, better perhaps in his legs than anywhere. 
Besides, you can see by the clear white of his eye and fresh 
bright look of his skin, that he is in tiptop training, able to do 
all he knows; while the Slogger looks rather sodden, as if he 
40 didn’t take much exercise and ate too much tuck.® The 
time-keeper is chosen, a large ring made, and the two stand 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


201 


up opposite one another for a moment, giving us time just to 
make our little observations. 

“ If Tom’ll only condescend to fight with his head and heels,” 
as East mutters to Martin, ‘‘we shall do.” 

But seemingly he won’t, for there he goes in, making play 5 
with both hands. Hard all, is the word; the two stand to 
one another like men; rally follows rally in quick succession, 
each fighting as if he thought to finish the whole thing out of 
hand. “Can’t last at this rate,” say the knowing ones, while 
the partisans of each make the air ring with their shouts and 10 
counter-shouts of encouragement, approval, and defiance. 

“Take it easy, take it easy — keep away, let him come after 
you,” implores East, as he wipes Tom’s face after the first 
round with w'et sponge, while he sits back on Martin’s knee, 
supported by the Madman’s long arms, which tremble a little 15 
from excitement. 

“Time’s up,” calls the time-keeper. 

“There he goes again, hang it all !” growls East, as his man 
is at it again as hard as ever. A very severe round follows, in 
which Tom gets out and out the worst of it, and is at last hit 20 
clean off his legs, and deposited on the grass by a right-hander 
from the Slogger. 

Loud shouts rise from the boys of Slogger’s house, and the 
Schoolhouse are silent and vicious, ready to pick quarrels 
anywhere. 25 

“Two to one in half-crowns on the big un,” says Rattle, one 
of the amateurs, a tall fellow, in thunder-and-lightning waist- 
coat, and puffy good-natured face. 

“Done!” says Groove, another amateur of quieter look, 
taking out his note-book to enter it, for our friend Rattle some- 30 
times forgets these little things. 

Meantime East is freshening up Tom with the sponges for 
next round, and has set two other boys to rub his hands. 

“Tom, old boy,” whispers he, “this may be fun for you, but 
it’s death to me. He’ll hit all the fight out of you in another 35 
five minutes, and then I shall go and drown myself in the island 
ditch. Feint him — use your legs ! draw him about I he’ll 
lose his wind then in no time, and you can go into him. Hit at 
his body too; we’ll take care of his frontispiece by-and-by.” 

Tom felt the wisdom of the counsel, and saw already that 40 
he couldn’t go in and finish the Slogger off at mere hammer and 


202 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


tongs, so changed his tactics completely in the third round. 
He now fights cautious, getting away from and parrying the 
Slogger’s lunging hits, instead of trying to counter, and leading 
his enemy a dance all round the ring after him. “ He’s funking ; 

5 go in, Williams,” “Catch him up,” “Finish him off,” scream 
the small boys of the Slogger party. 

“Just what we want,” thinks East, chuckling to himself, 
as he sees Williams, excited by these shouts, and thinking the 
game in his own hands, blowing himself in his exertions to get 
loto close quarters again, while Tom is keeping away with per- 
fect ease. 

They quarter over the ground again and again, Tom always 
on the defensive. 

The Slogger pulls up at last for a moment, fairly blown. 

15 “Now then, Tom,” sings out East, dancing with delight. 
Tom goes in in a twinkling, and hits two heavy body blows 
and gets away again before the Slogger can catch his wind; 
which when he does he rushes with blind fury at Tom, and being 
skilfully parried and avoided, overreaches himself and falls 
20 on his face, amidst terrific cheers from the Schoolhouse boys. 

“Double your two to one?” says Groove to Rattle, note- 
book in hand. 

“Stop a bit,” says that hero, looking uncomfortably at 
Williams, who is puffing away on his second’s knee, winded 
25 enough, but little the worse in any other way. 

After another round the Slogger too seems to see that he 
can’t go in and win right off, and has met his match or there- 
abouts. So he too begins to use his head, and tries to make 
Tom lose patience and come in before his time. And so the 
30 fight sways on, now one, and now the other getting a trifling 
pull. 

Tom’s face begins to look very one-sided — there are little 
queer bumps on his forehead, and his mouth is bleeding; but 
East keeps the wet sponge going so scientifically, that he comes 
35 up looking as fresh and bright as ever. Williams is only 
slightly marked in the face, but by the nervous movement 
of his elbows you can see that Tom’s body-blows are telling. 
In fact, half the vice of the Slogger’s hitting is neutralized, 
for he daren’t lunge out freely for fear of exposing his sides. 
40 It is too interesting by this time for much shouting, and the 
whole ring is very quiet. 


203 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


“All right, Tommy,” whispers East; “hold on’s the horse 
that’s to win. We’ve got the last. Keep your head, old boy.” 

But where is Arthur all this time? Words cannot paint the 
poor little fellow’s distress. He couldn’t muster courage to 
come up to the ring, but wandered up and down from the fives’- 5 
court to the corner of the chapel rails. Now trying to make 
up his mind to throw himself between them and try to stop 
them ; then thinking of running in and telling his friend Mary, 
who he knew would instantly report to the Doctor. The stories 
he had heard of men being killed in prize-fights rose up horribly 10 
before him. 

Once only, when the shouts of “Well done, Brown !” “Huzza 
for the Schoolhouse ! ” rose higher than ever, he ventured up 
to the ring, thinking the victory was won. Catching sight of 
Tom’s face in the state I have described all fear of consequences 15 
vanishing out of his mind, he rushed straight off to the matron’s 
room, beseeching her to get the fight stopped, or he should die. 

But it’s time for us to get back to the close. What is this 
fierce tumult and confusion? The ring is broken, and high 
and angry words are being bandied about: “It’s all fair,” — 20 
“It isn’t,” — “No hugging!” the fight is stopped. The com- 
batants, however, sit there quietly, tended by their seconds, 
while their adherents wrangle in the middle. East can’t help 
shouting challenges to two or three of the other side, though 
he never leaves Tom for a moment, and plies the sponges as 25 
fast as ever. 

The fact is, that at the end of the last round, Tom, seeing a 
good opening, had closed with his opponent, and after a mo- 
ment’s struggle had thrown him heavily, by help of the fall 
he had learnt from his village rival in the vale of White Horse. 30 
Williams hadn’t the ghost of a chance with Tom at wrestling; 
and the conviction broke at once on the Slogger faction, that 
if this were allowed their man must be licked. There was a 
strong feeling in the school against catching hold and throwing, 
though it was generally ruled all fair within certain limits; 35 
so the ring was broken and the fight stopped. 

The Schoolhouse are overruled — the fight is on again, 
but there is to be no throwing ; and East in high wrath threatens 
to take his man away after next round (which he doe.sn’t mean 
to do, by the way), when suddenly young Brooke comes through 40 
the small gate at the end of the chapel. The Schoolhouse 
faction rush to him. “ Oh, hurra 1 now we shall get fair play.” 


204 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


‘‘ Please, Brooke, come up, they won’t let Tom Brown throw 
him.” 

“ Throw whom ? ” says Brooke, coming up to the ring. “ Oh ! 
Williams, I see. Nonsense ! of course he may throw him, 
5 if he catches him fairly above the waist.” 

Now, young Brooke, you’re in the sixth, you know, and you 
ought to stop all fights. He looks hard at both boys. “ Any- 
thing wrong?” says he to East, nodding at Tom. 

‘‘Not a bit.” 
lo “ Not beat at all ? ” 

“ Bless you, no ! Heaps of fight in him. Ain’t there, Tom ? ” 

Tom looks at Brooke and grins. 

“How’s he?” nodding at Williams. 

“So, so; rather done, I think, since his last fall. He won’t 
15 stand above two more.” 

“Time’s up!” The boys rise again and face one another. 
Brooke can’t find it in his heart to stop them just yet, so the 
round goes on, the Slogger waiting for Tom, and reserving 
all his strength to hit him out should he come in for the wres- 
2otling dodge again, for he feels that that must be stopped, or his 
sponge will soon go up in the air. 

And now another newcomer appears on the field, to wit, the 
under-porter, with his long brush and great wooden receptacle 
for dust under his arm. He has been sweeping out the schools. 
25 “You’d better stop, gentlemen,” he says; “the Doctor 
knows that Brown’s fighting — he’ll be out in a minute.” 

“You go to Bath, Bill,” is all that that excellent servitor 
gets by his advice. And being a man of his hands, and a 
staunch upholder of the Schoolhouse, can’t help stopping to 
30 look on for a bit, and see Tom Brown, their pet craftsman, 
fight a round. 

It is grim earnest now, and no mistake. Both boys feel this, 
and summon every power of head, hand, and eye to their aid. 
A piece of luck on either side, a foot slipping, a blow getting 
35 well home, or another fall, may decide it. Tom works slowly 
round for an opening; he has all the legs, and can choose his 
own time : the Slogger waits for the attack, and hopes to finish 
it by some heavy right-handed blow. As they quarter slowly 
over the ground, the evening sun comes out from behind a 
40 cloud and falls full on Williams’s face. Tom darts in; the 
heavy right-hand is delivered, but only grazes his head. A 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


205 


short rally at close quarters, and they close; in another mo- 
ment the Slogger is thrown again heavily for the third time. 

‘‘I’ll give you three to two on the little one in half-crowns,” 
said Groove to Rattle. 

“ No, thank’ee,” answers the other, diving his hands further 5 
into his coat-tails. 

Just at this stage of the proceedings, the door of the turret 
which leads to the Doctor’s library suddenly opens, and he 
steps into the close, and makes straight for the ring, in which 
Brown and the Slogger are both seated on their seconds’ knees 10 
for the last time. 

“The Doctor! the Doctor!” shouts some small boy who 
catches sight of him, and the ring melts away in a few seconds, 
the small boys tearing off, Tom collaring his jacket and waist- 
coat, and slipping through the little gate by the chapel, and 15 
round the corner to Harrowell’s with his backers, as lively as 
need be; Williams and his backers making off not quite so fast 
across the close; Groove, Rattle, and the other bigger fellows 
trying to combine dignity and prudence in a comical manner, 
and walking off fast enough, they hope, not to be recognized, 20 
and not fast enough to look like running away. 

Young Brooke alone remains on the ground by the time the 
Doctor gets there, and touches his hat, not without a slight 
inward qualm. 

“Hah! Brooke. I am surprised to see you here. Don’t 25 
you know that I expect the sixth to stop fighting?” 

Brooke felt much more uncomfortable than he had expected, 
but he was rather a favourite with the Doctor for his openness 
and plainness of speech; so blurted out, as he walked by the 
Doctor’s side, who had already turned back — 30 

“ Yes, sir, generally. But I thought you wished us to exercise 
a discretion in the matter too — not to interfere too soon.” 

“But they have been fighting this half-hour and more,” said 
the Doctor. 

“Yes, sir; but neither was hurt. And they’re the sort of 35 
boys who’ll be all the better friends now, which they wouldn’t 
have been if they had been stopped any earlier — before it 
was so equal.” 

“Who was fighting with Brown?” said the Doctor. 

“Williams, sir, of Thompson’s. He is bigger than Brown, 40 
and had the best of it at first, but not when you came up, sir. 


206 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


There’s a good deal of jealousy between our house and Thomp- 
son’s, and there would have been more fights if this hadn’t been 
let go on, or if either of them had had much the worst of it.” 

‘‘Well but, Brooke,” said the Doctor, “doesn’t this look a 
5 little as if you exercised your discretion by only stopping a fight 
when the Schoolhouse boy is getting the worst of it?” 

Brooke, it must be confessed, felt rather gravelled. 

“Now remember,” added the Doctor, as he stopped at the 
turret-door, “this fight is not to go on — you’ll see to that. 
loAnd I expect you to stop all fights in future at once.” 

“Very well, sir,” said young Brooke, touching his hat, and 
not sorry to see the turret-door close behind the Doctor’s back. 

Meantime Tom and the staunchest of his adherents had 
reached Harrowell’s, and Sally Avas bustling about to get them 
15 a late tea, while Stumps had been sent off to Tew, the butcher, 
to get a piece of raw beef for Tom’s eye, which was to be healed 
offhand, so that he might show well in the morning. He 
Avas not a bit the Avorse, except a slight difficulty in his A’ision, 
a singing in his ears, and a sprained thumb, Avhich he kept in 
20 a cold-water bandage, while he drank lots of tea, and listened 
to the Babel of voices talking and speculating of nothing but 
the fight, and how Williams Avould have given in after another 
fall (AAdiich he didn’t in the least believe), and how on earth 
the Doctor could have got to know of it, — such bad luck ! 
25 He couldn’t help thinking to himself that he was glad he hadn’t 
Avon; he liked it better as it was, and felt very friendly to the 
Slogger. And then poor little Arthur crept in and sat doAvn 
quietly near him, and kept looking at him and the raAv beef 
Avith such plaintive looks that Tom at last burst out laughing. 
30 “ Don’t make such eyes, young un,” said he, “ there’s nothing 

the matter.” 

“Oh but, Tom, are you much hurt? I can’t bear thinking 
it was all for me.” 

“Not a bit of it, don’t flatter yourself. We were sure to 
35 have had it out sooner or later.” 

“Well, but you won’t go on, will you? You’ll promise me 
you won’t go on?” 

“ Can’t tell about that — all depends on the houses. We’re 
in the hands of our countrymen, you know. Must fight for the 
40 Schoolhouse flag, if so be.” 

However, the lovers of the science Avere doomed to disap- 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


207 


pointment this time. Directly after locking-up, one of the 
night fags knocked at Tom’s door. 

“Brown, young Brooke wants you in the sixth-form room.” 

Up went Tom to the summons, and found the magnates 
sitting at their supper. ^ 

“Well, Brown,” said young Brooke, nodding to him, “how 
do you feel?” 

“Oh, very well, thank you, only I’ve sprained my thumb, I 
think.” 

“ Sure to do that in a fight. Well, you hadn’t the worst of lo 
it, I could see. Where did you learn that throw?” 

“ Down in the country, when I was a boy.” 

“Hullo! why what are you now ? Well, never mind, you’re 
a plucky fellow. Sit down and have some supper.” 

Tom obeyed, by no means loth. And the fifth-form boy 15 
next him filled him a tumbler of bottled beer, and he ate and 
drank, listening to the pleasant talk, and wondering how soon 
he should be in the fifth, and one of that much-envied society. 

As he got up to leave., Brooke said, “You must shake hands 
to-morrow morning ; I shall come and see that done after 20 
first lesson.” 

And so he did. And Tom and the Slogger shook hands with 
great satisfaction and mutual respect, ^d for the next year 
or two, whenever fights were being talked of, the small boys 
who had been present shook their heads wisely, saying, “Ah! 25 
but you should just have seen the fight between Slogger Wil- 
liams and Tom Brown !” 

And now, boys all, three words before we quit the subject. 

I have put in this chapter on fighting of malice prepense, partly 
because I want to give you a true picture of what everyday 30 
school life was in my time, and not a kid-glove and go-tq- 
meeting-coat picture; and partly because of the cant and 
twaddle that’s talked of boxing and fighting with fists nowa- 
days. Even Thackeray has given in to it; and only a few 
weeks ago there was some rampant stuff in the Times on the 35 
subject, in an article on field-sports. 

Boys will quarrel, and when they quarrel will sometimes 
fight. Fighting with fists is the natural and English way for 
English boys to settle their quarrels. What substitute for 
it is there, or ever was there, amongst any nation under the 40 
sun? What would you like to see take its place? 


208 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


Learn to box, then, as you learn to play cricket and football. 
Not one of you will be the worse, but very much the better, 
for learning to box well. Should you never have to use it in 
earnest, there’s no exercise in the world so good for the temper 
5 and for the muscles of the back and legs. 

As to fighting, keep out of it if you can, by all means. When 
the time comes, if it ever should, that you have to say “Yes” 
or “No” to a challenge to fight, say “No” if you can, — only 
take care you make 'it clear to yourselves w^hy you say “ No.” 
lo It’s a proof of the highest courage, if done from true Christian 
motives. It’s quite right and justifiable, if done from a simple 
aversion to physical pain and danger. But don’t say “No” 
because you fear a licking, and say or think it’s because you 
fear God, for that’s neither Christian nor honest. And if you 
IS do fight, fight it out; and don’t give in while you can stand and 
see. 


CHAPTER VI 


FEVER IN THE SCHOOL 

“This our hope for all that’s mortal, 

And we too shall burst the bond ; 

Death keeps watch beside the portal, 

But ’tis life that dwells beyond.” 

— John Sterling. 

Two years have passed since the events recorded in the last 
chapter, and the end of the summer half-year is again drawing 
on. Martin has left and gone on a cruise in the South Pacific, 
in one of his uncle’s ships; the old magpie, as disreputable 
as ever, his last bequest to Arthur, lives in the joint study. 5 
Arthur is nearly sixteen, and at the head of the twenty,® having 
gone up the school at the rate of a form a half-year. East and 
Tom have been much more deliberate in their progress, and 
are only a little way up the fifth-form. Great strapping boys 
they are, but still thorough boys, filling about the same place 10 
in the house that young Brooke filled when they were new boys, 
and much the same sort of fellows. Constant intercourse 
with Arthur has done much for both of them, especially for 
Tom; but much remains yet to be done, if they are to get 
all the good out of Rugby which is to be got there in these 15 
times. Arthur is still frail and delicate, with more spirit than 
body; but, thanks to his intimacy with them and Martin, has 
learned to swim, and run, and play cricket, and has never hurt 
himself by too much reading. One evening, as they were all 
sitting down to supper in the fifth-form room, some one started 20 
a report that a fever had broken out at one of the boarding- 
houses; “they say,” he added, “that Thompson is very ill, 
and that Dr. Robertson has been sent for from Northampton.” 

“Then we shall all be sent home,” cried another. “Hurra! 
five weeks’ extra holidays, and no fifth-form examination!” 25 

209 


p 


210 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“ I hope not/’ said Tom ; “ there’ll be no Marylebone match® 
then at the end of the half.” 

Some thought one thing, some another, many didn’t believe 
the report; but the next day, Tuesday, Dr. Robertson arrived, 
5 and stayed all day, and had long conferences with the Doctor. 

On Wednesday morning, after prayers, the Doctor addressed 
the whole School. There were several cases of fever in different 
houses, he said; but Dr. Robertson, after the most careful 
examination, had assured him that it was not infectious, and 
10 that if proper care were taken, there could be no reason for 
stopping the school work at present. The examinations were 
just coming on, and it would be very unadvisable to break up 
now. However, any boys who chose to do so were at liberty 
to write home, and, if their parents wished it, to leave at once. 
15 He should send the whole School home if the fever spread. 

The next day Arthur sickened, but there was no other case. 
Before the end of the week thirty or forty boys had gone, but 
the rest stayed on. There was a general wish to please the 
Doctor, and a feeling that it was cowardly to run away. 

20 On the Saturday Thompson died, in the bright afternoon, 
while the cricket-match was going on as usual on the Big-side 
ground; the Doctor coming from his death-bed, passed along 
the gravel-walk at the side of the clbse, but no one knew what 
had happened till the next day. At morning lecture it began 
25 to be rumoured, and by afternoon chapel was known generally; 
and a feeling of seriousness and awe at the actual presence of 
death among them came over the whole school. In all the 
long years of his ministry the Doctor perhaps never spoke words 
which sank deeper than some of those in that day’s sermon. 
30 “ When I came yesterday from visiting all but the very death- 
bed of him who has been taken from us, and looked around 
upon all the familiar objects and scenes within our own ground, 
where your common amusements were going on with your 
common cheerfulness and activity, I felt there was nothing 
35 painful in witnessing that; it did not seem in any way shocking 
or out of tune with those feelings which the sight of a dying 
Christian must be supposed to awaken. The unsuitableness 
in point of natural feeling between scenes of mourning and 
scenes of liveliness did not at all present itself. But I did feel 
40 that if at that moment any of those faults had been brought 
before me which sometimes occur amongst us; had I heard 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


211 


that any of you had been guilty of falsehood, or of drunkenness, 
or of any other such sin; had I heard from any quarter the 
language of profaneness, or of unkindness, or of indecency; 
had I heard or seen any signs of that wretched folly which 
courts the laugh of fools by affecting not to dread evil and not s 
to care for good, then the unsuitableness of any of these things 
with the scene I had just quitted would indeed have been most 
intensely painful. And why? Not because such things would 
really have been worse than at any other time, but because at 
such a moment the eyes are opened really to know good and lo 
evil, because we then feel what it is so to live as that death 
becomes an infinite blessing, and what it is so to live also, that 
it were good for us if we had never been born.” 

Tom had gone into chapel in sickening anxiety about Arthur, 
but he came out cheered and strengthened by those grand 15 
words, and walked up alone to their study. And when he sat 
down and looked round, and saw Arthur’s straw-hat and cricket- 
jacket hanging on their pegs, and marked all his little neat 
arrangements, not one of which had been disturbed, the tears 
indeed rolled down his cheeks; but they were calm and blessed 20 
tears, and he repeated to himself, “Yes, Geordie’s eyes are 
opened — he knows w^hat it is so to live as that death becomes 
an infinite blessing. But do I? Oh, God, can I bear to lose 
him?” 

The week passed mournfully aw^ay. No more boys sickened, 25 
but Arthur was reported worse each day, and his mother 
arrived early in the week. Tom made many appeals to be 
allowed to see him, and several times tried to get up to the 
sick-room; but the housekeeper was always in the way, and 
at last spoke to the Doctor, who kindly, but peremptorily 30 
forbade him. 

Thompson was buried on the Tuesday, and the burial service, 
so soothing and grand always, but beyond all words solemn 
when read over a boy’s grave to his companions, brought him 
much comfort, and many strange new thoughts and longings. 35 
He went back to his regular life, and played cricket and bathed 
as usual: it seemed to him that this was the right thing to do, 
and the new thoughts and longings becam?e more brave and 
healthy for the effort. The crisis came on Saturday, the day 
week that Thompson had died ; and during that long after- 40 
noon Tom sat in his study reading his Bible, and going every 


212 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


half-hour to the housekeeper’s room, expecting each time to 
hear that the gentle and brave little spirit had gone home. 
But God had work for Arthur to do ; the crisis passed — on 
Sunday evening he was declared out of danger; on Monday 
5 he sent a message to Tom that he was almost well, had changed 
his room, and was to be allowed to see him the next day. 

It was evening when the housekeeper summoned him to the 
sick-room. Arthur was lying on the sofa by the open window, 
through which the rays of the western sun stole gently, lighting 
lo up his white face and golden hair. Tom remembered a German 
picture of an angel which he knew; often had he thought how 
transparent and golden and spirit-like it w^as ; and he shud- 
dered to think how like it Arthur looked, and felt a shock 
as if his blood had all stopped short, as he realized how near 
15 the other world his friend must have been to look like that. 
Never till that moment had he felt how his little chum had 
twined himself round his heart-strings; and as he stole gently 
across the room and knelt down, and put his arm round Arthur’s 
head on the pillow, felt ashamed and half angry at his own red 
20 and brown face, and the bounding sense of health and power 
which filled every fibre of his body, and made every move- 
ment of mere living a joy to him. He needn’t have troubled 
himself ; it was this very strength and power so different from 
his own which drew Arthur so to him. 

25 Arthur laid his thin white hand, on which the blue veins 
stood out so plainly, on Tom’s great brown fist, and smiled at 
him; and then looked out of the window again, as if he couldn’t 
bear to lose a moment of the sunset, into the tops of the great 
feathery elms, round which the rooks were circling and clang- 
30 ing, returning in flocks from their evening’s foraging parties. 
The elms rustled, the sparrows in the ivy just outside the win- 
dow chirped and fluttered about, quarrelling, and making it 
up again; the rooks young and old talked in chorus, and the 
merry shouts of the boys and the sweet click of the cricket-bats 
35 came up cheerily from below. 

“Dear George,” said Tom, “I am so glad to be let up to see 
you at last. I’ve tried hard to come so often, but they wouldn’t 
let me before.” 

“ Oh, I know, Tom ; Mary has told me every day about you, 
40 and how she was obliged to make the Doctor speak to you to 
keep you away. I’m very glad you didn’t get up, for you 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


213 


might have caught it; and you couldn’t stand being ill, with all 
the matches going on. And you’re in the eleven, too, I hear 
— I’m so glad.” 

‘‘Yes, ain’t it jolly?” said Tom proudly; “I’m ninth too. I 
made forty at the last pie-match, ° and caught three fellows 5 
out. So I was put in above Jones and Tucker. Tucker’s so 
savage, for he was head of the twenty-two.” 

“Well, I think you ought to be higher yet,” said Arthur, 
who was as jealous for the renown of Tom in games, as Tom 
was for his as a scholar. 10 

“Never mind, I don’t care about cricket or anything now 
you’re getting well, Geordie; and I shouldn’t have hurt, I 
know, if they’d have let me come up, — nothing hurts me. 
But you’ll get about now directly, won’t you? You won’t 
believe how clean I’ve kept the study. All your things are just 15 
as you left them; and I feed the old magpie just when you 
used, though I have to come in from Big-side ° for him, the old 
rip. He won’t look pleased all I can do, and sticks his head 
first on one side and then on the other, and blinks at me before 
he’ll begin to eat, till I’m half inclined to box his ears. And 20 
whenever East comes in, you should see him hop off to the 
window, dot and go one, though Harry wouldn’t touch a 
feather of him now.” 

Arthur laughed. “Old Gravey has a good memory, he can’t 
forget the sieges of poor Martin’s den in old times.” He 25 
paused a moment, and then went on: “You can’t think how 
often I’ve been thinking of old Martin since I’ve been ill; I 
suppose one’s mind gets restless, and likes to wander off to 
strange unknown places. I wonder what queer new pets the 
old boy has got ; how he must be revelling in the thousand 30 
new birds, beasts, and fishes !” 

Tom felt a pang of jealousy, but kicked it out in a moment. 
“Fancy him on a South-Sea Island, with the Cherokees or 
Patagonians, or some such wild niggers!” (Tom’s ethnology 
and geography were faulty, but sufficient for his needs) ; they’ll 35 
make the old Madman cock medicine-man and tattoo him all 
over. Perhaps he’s cutting about now all blue, and has a 
squaw and a wigwam. He’ll improve their boomerangs, and 
be able to throw them too, without having old Thomas sent 
after him by the Doctor to take them away.” 4 ° 

Arthur laughed at the remembrance of the boomerang story, 


214 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


but then looked grave again, and said, “He’ll convert all the 
Island, I know.” 

“Yes, if he don’t blow it up first.” 

“ Do you remember, Tom, how you and East used to laugh 
5 at him and chaff him, because he said he was sure the rooks 
all had calling-over or prayers, or something of the sort, when 
the locking-up bell rang? Well, I declare,” said Arthur, look- 
ing up seriously into Tom’s laughing eyes, “ I do think he was 
right. Since I’ve been lying here, I’ve watched them every 
lo night; and, do you know, they really do come and perch, all of 
them, just about locking-up time; and then first there’s a 
regular chorus of caws, and then they stop a bit, and one old 
fellow, or perhaps two or three in different trees, caw solos, 
and then off they all go again, fluttering about and cawing 
15 anyhow till they roost.” 

“I wonder if the old blackies do talk,” said Tom, looking up 
at them. “How they must abuse me and East, and pray for 
the Doctor for stopping the slinging.” 

“There! look, look!” cried Arthur, “don’t you see the old 
20 fellow without a tail coming up ? Martin used to call him the 
‘clerk.’ He can’t steer himself. You never saw such fun as 
he is in a high wind, when he can’t steer himself home, and gets 
carried right past the trees, and has to bear up again and again 
before he can perch.” 

25 The locking-up bell began to toll, and the tw^o boys were 
silent, and listened to it. The sound soon carried Tom off to 
the river and the woods, and he began to go over in his mind 
the many occasions on which he had heard that toll coming 
faintly down the breeze, and had to pack up his rod in a hurry 
30 and make a run for it, to get in before the gates were shut. He 
was roused with a start from his memories by Arthur’s voice, 
gentle and weak from his late illness. 

“Tom, will you be angry if I talk to you very seriously?” 

“No, dear old boy, not I. But ain’t you faint, Arthur, or 
35 ill ? What can I get you ? Don’t say anythiug to hurt your- 
self now — you are very weak; let me come up again.” 

“No, no, I shan’t hurt myself : I’d sooner speak to you now, 
if you don’t mind. I’ve asked Mary to tell the Doctor that 
you are with me, so you needn’t go down to calling-over; and 
40 I mayn’t have another chance, for I shall most likely have to 
go home for change of air to get well, and mayn’t come back 
this half.” 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


215 


'^Oh, do you think you must go away before the end of the 
half? I’m so sorry. It’s more than five weeks yet to the 
holidays, and all the fifth-form examination and half the cricket- 
matches to come yet. And what shall I do all that time alone 
in our study? Why, Arthur, it will be more than twelve weeks 5 
before I see you again. Oh, hang it, I can’t stand that ! Be- 
sides, who’s to keep me up to working at the examination 
books? I shall come out bottom of the form, as sure as eggs 
is eggs.” 

Tom was rattling on, half in joke, half in earnest, for he 10 
wanted to get Arthur out of his serious vein, thinking it would 
. do him harm ; but Arthur broke in — 

“Oh, please, Tom, stop, or you’ll drive all I had to say out 
of my head. And I’m already horribly afraid I’m going to 
make you angry.” 15 

“Don’t gammon,® young un,” rejoined Tom (the use of the 
old name, dear to him from old recollections, made Arthur 
start and smile, and feel quite happy); “you know you ain’t 
afraid, and you’ve never made me angry since the first month 
we chummed together. Now I’m going to be quite sober for 20 
a quarter of an hour, which is more than I am once in a year; 
so make the most of it; heave ahead, and pitch into me right 
and left.” / 

“ Dear Tom, I ain’t going to pitch into you,” said Arthur, 
piteously; “and it seems so cocky in me to be advising you, 25 
who’ve been my backbone ever since I’ve been at Rugby, and 
have made the school a paradise to me. Ah, I see I shall 
never do it, unless I go head-over-heels at once, as you said 
when you taught me to swim. Tom, I want you to give up 
using vulgus-books and cribs.®” 30 

Arthur sank back on to his pillow with a sigh, as if the effort 
had been great; but the worst w^as now over, and he looked 
straight at Tom, who was evidently taken aback. He leant 
his elbows on his knees, and stuck his hands into his hair, 
w'histled a verse of “Billy Taylor,” and then was quite silent 35 
for another minute. Not a shade crossed his face, but he was 
clearly puzzled. At last he looked up, and caught Arthur’s 
anxious look, took his hand, and said simply — 

“ Why, young un ? ” 

“ Because you’re the honestest boy in Rugby, and that ain’t 40 
honest.” 


216 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


‘‘I don’t see that.” 

“What were you sent to Rugby for?” 

“ Well, I don’t know exactly — nobody ever told me. I 
suppose because all boys are sent to a public school, in England.” 

5 “ But what do you think yourself ? What do you want to do 

here, and to carry away?” 

Tom thought a minute. “I want to be A 1 at cricket and 
football, and all the other games, and to make my hands keep 
my head against any fellow, lout or gentleman. I want to get 
10 into the sixth before I leave, and to please the Doctor; and I 
want to carry away just as much Latin and Greek as will take 
me through Oxford respectably. There now, young un, I 
never thought of it before, but that’s pretty much about my 
figure. Ain’t it all on the square? What have you got to 
15 say to that?” 

“Why, that you are pretty sure to do all that you want, 
then.” 

“ Well, I hope so. But you’ve forgot one thing, what I want 
to leave behind me. I want to leave behind me,” said Tom, 
20 speaking slow, and looking much moved, “the name of a fellow 
who never bullied a little boy, or turned his back on a big one.” 

Arthur pressed his hand, and after a moment’s silence went 
on: “You say, Tom, you want to please the Doctor. Now, 
do you want to please him by what he thinks you do, or by 
25 what you really do?” 

“By what I really do, of course.” 

“Does he think you use cribs and vulgus-books ? ” 

Tom felt at once that his flank was turned, but he couldn’t 
give in. “ He was at Winchester himself,” said he ; “ he knows 
30 all about it.” 

“Yes, but does he think you use them? Do you think he 
approves of it?” 

“You young villain!” said Tom, shaking his fist at Arthur, 
half vexed and half pleased, “I never think about it. Hang 
35 it — there, perhaps he don’t. Well, I suppose he don’t.” 

Arthur saw that he had got his point; he knew his friend 
well, and was wise in silence as in speech. He only said, “I 
would sooner have the Doctor’s good opinion of me as 1 really 
am, than any man’s in the world.” 

40 After another minute, Tom began again: “Look here, young 
un, how on earth am I to get time to play the matches this 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


217 


half, if I give up cribs? We’re in the middle of that long 
crabbed chorus in the Agamemnon ° ; I can only just make head 
or tail of it with the crib. Then there’s Pericles’® speech coming 
on in Thucydides,® and ‘ The Birds® ’ to get up for examina- 
tion, besides the Tacitus. Tom groaned at the thought of 5 
his accumulated labours. “ I say, young un, there’s only five 
weeks or so left to holidays; mayn’t I go on as usual for this 
half? I’ll tell the Doctor about it some day, or you may.” 

Arthur looked out of window; the twilight had come on, and 
all was silent. He repeated in a low voice, “ In this thing the lo 
Lord pardon thy servant,® that when my master goeth into 
the house of Riinmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my 
hand, and I bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, when I 
bow down myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon 
thy servant in this thing.” 15 

Not a word more was said on the subject, and the boys were 
again silent — one of those blessed, short silences in which the 
resolves which colour a life are so often taken. 

Tom was the first to break it. “ You’ve been very ill indeed, 
haven’t you, Geordie?” said he, with a mixture of awe and 20 
curiosity, feeling as if his friend had been in some strange place 
or scene, of which he could form no idea, and full of the memory 
of his own thoughts during the last week. 

“ Yes, very. I’m sure the Doctor thought I was going to die. 

He gave me the Sacrament last Sunday, and you can’t think 25 
what he is when one is ill. He said such brave, and tender, and 
gentle things to me, I felt quite light and strong after it, and 
never had any more fear. My mother brought our old medical 
man, who attended me when I was a poor sickly child ; he said 
my constitution was quite changed, and that I’m fit for any- 30 
thing now. If it hadn’t, I couldn’t have stood three days of this 
illness. That’s all thanks to you, and the games you’ve made 
me fond of.” 

‘'More thanks to old Martin,” said Tom; “he’s been your 
real friend.” 35 

“Nonsense, Tom; he never could have done for me what 
you have.” 

“ Well, I don’t know; I did little enough. Did they tell you 
— you won’t mind hearing it now, I know — that poor Thomp- 
son died last week? The other three boys are getting quite 40 
round, like you.” 


218 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


“Oh, yes, I heard of it/’ 

Then Tom, who was quite full of it, told Arthur of the burial- 
service in the chapel, and how it had impressed him, and, he 
believed, all the other boys. “And though the Doctor never 
5 said a word about it,” said he, “and it was a half holiday and 
match day, there wasn’t a game played in the close all the 
afternoon, and the boys all went about as if it were Sunday.” 

“I’m very glad of it,” said Arthur. “But, Tom, I’ve had 
such strange thoughts about death lately. I’ve never told a 
lo soul of them, not even my mother. Sometimes I think they’re 
wrong, but, do you know, I don’t think in my heart I could be 
sorry at the death of any of my friends.” 

Tom was taken quite aback. “ What in the world is the 
young un after now?” thought he; “I’ve swallowed a good 
15 many of his crotchets, but this altogether beats me. He can’t 
be quite right in his head.” He didn’t want to say a word, 
and shifted about uneasily in the dark; however, Arthur 
seemed to be waiting for an answer, so at last he said, “ I don’t 
think I quite see what you mean, Geordie. One’s told so often 
20 to think about death, that I’ve tried it on sometimes, especially 
this last week. But we won’t talk of it now. I’d better go — ■ 
you’re getting tired, and I shall do you harm.” 

“No, no, indeed I ain’t, Tom; you must stop till nine, 
there’s only twenty minutes. I’ve settled you shall stop till 
25 nine. And oh ! do let me talk to you — I must talk to you. 
I see it’s just as I feared. You think I’m half mad — don’t 
you now? ” 

“Well, I did think it odd what you said, Geordie, as you ask 
me.” 

30 Arthur paused a moment, and then said quickly, “I’ll tell 
you how it all happened. At first, when I was sent to the 
sick-room, and found I had really got the fever, I was terribly 
frightened. I thought I should die, and I could not face it for 
a moment. I don’t think it was sheer cowardice at first, but I 
35 thought how hard it was to be taken away from my mother 
and sisters, and you all, just as I was beginning to see my way 
to many things, and to feel that I might be a man and do a 
man’s work. To die without having fought, and worked, and 
given one’s life away, was too hard to bear. I got terribly im- 
40 patient, and accused God of injustice, and strove to justify 
myself ; and the harder I strove^ the deeper I sank. Then the 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


219 


image of my dear father often came across me, but I turned 
from it. Whenever it came, a heavy numbing throb seemed 
to take hold of my heart, and say, ‘Dead — dead — dead.' 
And I cried out, ‘The living,® the living shall praise Thee, O 
God; the dead cannot praise Thee. There is no work in the 5 
grave; in the night no man can work. But I can work. I can 
do great things. I will do great things. Why wilt Thou slay 
me?' And so I struggled and plunged, deeper and deeper, 
and went down into a living black tomb. I was alone 
there, with no power to stir or think; alone with myself; be- 10 
yond the reach of all human fellowship ; beyond Christ's reach, 

I thought, in my nightmare. You, who are brave and bright 
and strong, can have no idea of that agony. Pray to God 
you never may. Pray as for your life." 

Arthur stopped — from exhaustion, Tom thought; but what 15 
between his fear lest Arthur should hurt himself, his awe, and 
longing for him to go on, he couldn't ask, or stir to help him. 

Presently he went on, but quite calm and slow. “I don't 
know how long I was in that state. For more than a day, I 
know; for I was quite conscious, and lived my outer life all 20 
the time, and took my medicines, and spoke to my mother, 
and heard what they said. But I didn't take much note of 
time; I thought time was over for me, and that that tomb 
was what was beyond. Well, on last Sunday morning, as I 
seemed to lie in that tomb, alone, as I thought, forever and 25 
ever, the black dead wall was cleft in two, and I was caught up 
and borne through into the light by some great power, some 
living mighty Spirit. Tom, do you remember the living 
creatures and the wheels® in Ezekiel ? It was just like that : 

‘ when they went I heard the noise of their wings, like the noise 30 
of great waters, as the voice of the Almighty, the voice of speech 
as the noise of an host; when they stood they let down their 
wings' — ‘and they went every one straight forward; whither 
the spirit was to go they went, and they turned not when they 
went.' And we rushed through the bright air, which was full 35 
of myriads of living creatures, and paused on the brink of a 
great river. And the power held me up, and I knew that that 
great river was the grave, and death dwelt there; but not the 
death I had met in the black tomb — that I felt was gone for- 
ever. For on the other bank of the great river I saw men and 40 
women and children rising up pure and bright, and the tears 


220 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


were wiped from their eyes, and they put on glory and strength, 
and all weariness and pain fell away. And beyond were a mul- 
titude which no man could number, and they worked at some 
great work; and they who rose from the river went on and 
5 joined in the work. They all worked, and each w'orked in a 
different way, but all at the same work. And I saw there my 
father, and the men in the old town whom I knew when I was 
a child; many a hard stern man, who never came to church, 
and whom they called atheist and infidel. There they were, 
lo side by side with my father, whom I had seen toil and die for 
them, and women and little children, and the seal -was on the 
foreheads of all. And I longed to see wnat the work was, and 
could not; so I tried to plunge in the river, for I thought I 
would join them, but I could not. Then I looked about to see 
15 how they got into the river. And this I could not see, but I 
saw myriads on this side, and they too worked, and I knew 
that it was the same work; and the same seal was on their 
foreheads. And though I saw that there was toil and anguish 
in the work of these, and that most that were working w^re 
20 blind and feeble, yet I longed no more to plunge into the river, 
but more and more to know what the w'ork w'as. And as I 
looked I saw my mother and my sisters, and I saw the Doctor, 
and you, Tom, and hundreds more whom I knew; and at last 
I saw myself too, and I was toiling and doing ever so little 
25 a piece of the great work. Then it all melted away, and the 
power left me, and as it left me I thought I heard a voice say, 

‘ The vision is for an appointed time ; though it tarry, wait for 
it, for in the end it shall speak and not lie, it shall surely come, 
it shall not tarry. It was early morning I know, then, it was so 
30 quiet and cool, and my mother was fast asleep in the chair by my 
bedside; but it wasn't only a dream of mine. I know it wasn’t 
a dream. Then I fell into a deep sleep, and only woke after 
afternoon chapel ; and the Doctor came and gave me the Sac- 
rament, as I told you. I told him and my mother I should 
35 get well — I knew I should ; but I couldn’t tell them why. 
Tom,” said Arthur, gently, after another minute, “do you see 
why I could not grieve now to see my dearest friend die ? It 
can’t be — it isn’t, all fever or illness. God would never have 
let me see it so clear if it wasn’t true. I don’t understand it all 
40 yet — it will take me my life and longer to do that — to find 
out what the work is.” 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


221 


When Arthur stopped there was a long pause. Tom could 
not speak, he was almost afraid to breathe, lest he should break 
the train of Arthur’s thoughts. He longed to hear more, and 
to ask questions. In another minute nine o’clock struck, and 
a gentle tap at the door called them both back into the world 5 
again. They did not answer, however, for a moment, and so 
the door opened and a lady came in carrying a candle. 

She went straight to the sofa, and took hold of Arthur’s 
hand, and then stooped down and kissed him. 

^ “ My dearest boy, you feel a little feverish again. Why lo 
didn’t you have lights? You’ve talked too much, and excited 
yourself in the dark.” 

‘‘Oh, no, mother, you can’t think how well I feel. I shall 
start with you to-morrow for Devonshire. But, mother, here’s 
my friend; here’s Tom Brown — you know him?” 15 

“Yes, indeed, I’ve known him for years,” she said, and held 
out her hand to Tom, who was now standing up behind the 
sofa. This was Arthur’s mother. 

Tall and slight and fair, with masses of golden hair drawn 
back from the broad white forehead, and the calm blue eye 20 
meeting his so deep and open — the eye that he knew so well, 
for it was his friend’s over again, and the lovely tender mouth 
that trembled while he looked — she stood there, a woman of 
thirty-eight, old enough to be his mother, and one whose face 
showed the lines which must be written on the faces of good 25 
men’s wives and widows — but he thought he had never seen 
anything so beautiful. He couldn’t help wondering if Arthur’s 
sisters were like her. 

Tom held her hand, and looked on straight in her face; he 
could neither let it go nor speak. 30 

“Now, Tom,” said Arthur, laughing, “where are your 
manners? you’ll stare my mother out of countenance.” Tom 
dropped the little hand with a sigh. “There, sit down, both of 
you. Here, dearest mother, there’s room here;” and he made 
a place on the sofa for her. Tom, you needn’t go ; I’m sure you 35 
won’t be called up at first lesson.” Tom felt that he would risk 
being floored at every lesson for the rest of his natural school 
life sooner than go; so sat down. “And now,” said Arthur, 

“ I have realized one of the dearest wishes of my life — to see 
you two together.” 4° 

And then he led away the talk to their home in Devonshire, 


222 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


and the red bright earth, and the deep green combes,® and 
the peat streams like cairn-gorm® pebbles, and the wild moor 
with its high cloudy Tors® for a giant background to the picture 
— till Tom got jealous, and stood up for the clear chalk streams, 
5 and the emerald water meadows- and great elms and wdllows 
of the dear old Royal county, as he gloried to call it. And the 
mother sat on quiet and loving, rejoicing in their life. The 
quarter-to-ten struck, and the bell rang for bed, before they 
had well begun their talk, as it seemed, 
lo Then Tom rose with a sigh to go. 

“Shall I see you in the morning, Geordie?” said he, as he 
shook his friend’s hand. “Never mind though; you’ll be 
back next half, and I shan’t forget the house of Rimmon.” 

Arthur’s mother got up and walked with him to the door, 
15 and there gave him her hand again, and again his eyes met that 
deep loving look, which was like a spell upon him. Her voice 
trembled slightly as she said, “Good night — you are one who 
knows what our Father has promised to the friend of the widow 
and the fatherless. May He deal with you as you have dealt 
20 with me and mine !” 

Tom was quite upset; he mumbled something about owing 
everything good in him to Geordie — looked in her face again, 
pressed her hand to his lips, and rushed downstairs to his study, 
where he sat till old Thomas came kicking at the door, to tell 
25 him his allowance would be stopped if he didn’t go off to bed. 
(It would have been stopped anyhow, but that he was a great 
favourite with the old gentleman, who loved to come out in the 
afternoons into the close to Tom’s wicket, and bowl slow 
twisters to him, and talk of the glories of bygone Surrey heroes, 
30 with whom he had played former generations.) So Tom 
roused himself, and took up his candle to go to bed; and then 
for the first time was aware of a beautiful new fishing-rod, with 
old Eton’s mark on it, and a splendidly bound Bible, which lay 
on his table, on the title-page of which was written — “ Tom 
35 Brown, from his affectionate and grateful friends, Frances 
Jane Arthur; George Arthur.” 

I leave you all to guess how he slept, and what he dreamt of. 


CHAPTER VII 


HARRY east’s DILEMMAS AND DELIVERANCES 

“The Holy Supper is kept indeed, 

In whatso we share with another’s need — 

Not that which we give, but what we share. 

For the gift without the giver is bare : 

Who bestows himself with his alms feeds three, 

Himself, his hungering neighbour, and Me.” 

— Lowell : The Vision of Sir Launfal. 

The next morning, after breakfast, Tom, East, and Gower 
met as usual to learn their second lesson together. Tom had 
been considering how to break his proposal of giving up the 
crib to the others, and having found no better way (as indeed 
none better can ever be found by man or boy), told them simply 5 
what had happened ; how he had been to see Arthur, who had 
talked to him upon the subject, and what he had said, and for 
his part he had made up his mind, and wasn’t going to use cribs 
any more; and not being quite sure of his ground, took the 
high and pathetic tone, and was proceeding to say, “ how that 10 
having learnt his lessons with them for so many years, it would 
grieve him much to put an end to the arrangement, and he 
hoped at any rate that if they wouldn’t go on with him, they 
should still be just as good friends, and respect one another’s 
motives — but — ” 15 

Here the other boys, who had been listening with open eyes 
and ears, — burst in — 

“Stuff and nonsense !” cried Gower. “ Here, East, get down 
the crib and find the place.” 

“Oh, Tommy, Tommy!” said East, proceeding to do as he 20 
was bidden, “that it should ever have come to this! I knew 
Arthur’d be the ruin of you some day, and you of me. And 
now the time’s come,” — and he made a doleful face. 

223 


224 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


‘‘I don’t know about ruin,” answered Tom; “1 know that 
you and I would have had the sack long ago, if it hadn’t been 
for him. And you know it as well as I.” 

“ Well, w^e were in a baddish way before he came, I own; but 
5 this new crotchet of his is past a joke.” 

“ Let’s give it a trial, Harry ; come — you know how often he 
has been right and we wrong.” 

“ Now, don’t you two be jawing away about young Square- 
toes,” struck in Gower. “ He’s no end of a sucking wiseacre, I 
lo dare say; but we’ve no time to lose, and I’ve got the fives’- 
court at half-past nine.” 

“I say, Gower,” said Tom, appealingly, “be a good fellow, 
and let’s try if we can’t get on without the crib.” 

“ What ! in this chorus ? Why, we shan’t get through ten 
15 lines.” 

“I say, Tom,” cried East, having hit on a new idea, “don’t 
you remember, when we were in the upper fourth, and old 
Momus caught me construing off the leaf of a crib which I’d 
torn out and put in my book, and which would float out on to 
20 the floor; he sent me up to be flogged for it?” 

“Yes, I remember it very well.” 

“Well, the Doctor, after he’d flogged me, told me himself 
that he didn’t flog me for using a translation, but for taking it 
into lesson, and using it there when I hadn’t learnt a word 
25 before I came in. He said there was no harm in using a trans- 
latioil to get a clue to hard passages, if you tried all you could 
first to make them out without.” 

“ Did he, though ? ” said Tom ; “ then Arthur must be wrong.” 

“Of course he is,” said Gower, “the little prig. We’ll only 
30 use the crib when we can’t construe without it. Go ahead, 
East.” 

And on this agreement they started: Tom, satisfied with 
having made his confession, and not sorry to have a locus poe- 
nitentiae,° and not to be deprived altogether of the use of his 
35 old and faithful friend. 

The boys went on as usual, each taking a sentence in turn, 
and the crib being handed to the one whose turn it was to con- 
strue. Of course Tom couldn’t object to this, as, was it not 
simply lying there to be appealed to in case the sentence should 
40 prove too hard altogether for the construer ? But it must be 
owned that Gower and East did not make very tremendous 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


225 


exertions to conquer their sentences before having recourse 
to its help. Tom, however, with the most heroic virtue and 
gallantry rushed into his sentence, searching in a high-minded 
manner for nominative and verb, and turning over his diction- 
ary frantically for the first hard word that stopped him. But 5 
in the meantime Gower, who was bent on getting to fives, 
would peep quietly into the crib, and then suggest, Don’t you 
think this is the meaning?” “I think you must take it this 
way. Brown;” and as Tom didn’t see his way to not profiting 
by these suggestions, the lesson went on about as quickly as 10 
usual, and Gower was able to start for the fives’-court within 
five minutes of the half hour. 

When Tom and East were left face to face, they looked at 
one another for a minute, Tom puzzled and East chock-full of 
fun, and then burst into a roar of laughter. 15 

‘‘Well, Tom,” said East, recovering himself, “I don’t see 
any objection to the new way. It’s about as good as the old 
one, I think; beside the advantage it gives one of feeling 
virtuous, and looking down on one’s neighbours.” 

Tom shoved his hand into his back hair. “I ain’t so sure,” 20 
said he; “you two fellows carried me off my legs: I don’t 
think we really tried one sentence fairly. Are you sure you 
remember what the Doctor said to you?” 

“Yes. And I’ll swear I couldn’t make out one of my sen- 
tences to-day. No, nor ever could. I really don’t remember,” 25 
said East, speaking slowly and impressively, “to have come 
across one Latin or Greek sentence this half that I could go 
and construe by the light of nature. Whereby I am sure Provi- 
dence intended cribs to be used.” 

“The thing to find out,” said Tom meditatively, “is how 30 
long one ought to grind at a sentence without looking at the 
crib. Now I think if one fairly looks out all the words one 
don’t know, and then can’t hit it, that’s enough.” 

“To be sure. Tommy,” said East demurely, but with a merry 
twinkle in his eye. “Your new doctrine too, old fellow,” 35 
added he, “when one comes to think of it, is a cutting at the 
root of all school morality. You’ll take away mutual help, 
brotherly love, or, in the vulgar tongue, giving construes, 
which I hold to be one of our highest virtues. For how can 
you distinguish between getting a construe from another boy, 40 
and using a crib? Hang it, Tom, if you’re going to deprive 

Q 


226 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


all our schoolfellows of the chance of exercising Christian benev- 
olence and being good Samaritans, I shall cut the concern.’’ 

I wish you wouldn’t joke about it, Harry; it’s hard enough 
to see one’s way, a precious sight harder than I thought last 
S night. But I suppose there’s a use and an abuse of both, and 
one’ll get straight enough somehow. But you can’t make out 
anyhow that one has a right to use old vulgus-books and copy- 
books.” 

‘‘ Hullo, more heresy ! How fast a fellow goes down hill 
lo when he once gets his head before his legs. Listen to me, Tom. 
Not use old vulgus-books? — why, you Goth! ain’t we to 
take the benefit of the wisdom, and admire and use the work of 
past generations? Not use old copy-books! Why, you 
might as well say we ought to pull down Westminster Abbey, 
15 and put up a go-to-meeting-shop with churchwarden windows; 
or never read Shakespeare, but only Sheridan Knowles.® 
Think of all the work and labour that our predecessors have 
bestowed on these very books; and are we to make their work 
of no value?” 

20 “I say, Harry, please don’t chaff; I’m really serious.” 

“ And then, is it not our duty to consult the pleasure of others 
rather than our own, and above all that of our masters? 
Fancy then the difference to them in looking over a vulgus 
which has been carefully touched and retouched by themselves 
25 and others, and which must bring them a sort of dreamy 
pleasure, as if they’d met the thought or expression of it some- 
where or another — before they were born perhaps ; and 
that of cutting up, and making picture-frames round all your 
and my false quantities, and other monstrosities. Why, Tom, 
30 you wouldn’t be so cruel as never to let old Momus hum over 
the ‘O genus humanum’® again, and then look up doubtingly 
through his spectacles, and end by smiling and giving three 
extra marks for it: just for old sake’s sake, I suppose.” 

“Well,” said Tom, getting up in something as like a huff as 
35 he was capable of, “ it’s deuced hard that when a fellow’s 
really trying to do what he ought his best friends’ll do noth- 
ing but chaff him and try to put him down.” And he stuck 
his books under his arm and his hat on his head, preparatory to 
rushing out into the quadrangle, to testify with his own soul 
40 of the faithlessness of friendships. 

“ Now don’t be an ass, Tom,” said East, catching hold of him, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


227 


‘‘you know me well enough by this time; my bark’s worse 
than my bite. You can’t expect to ride your new crotchet 
without anybody’s trying to stick a nettle under his tail and 
make him kick you off : especially as we shall all have to go on 
foot still. But now sit down, and let’s go over it again. I’ll 5 
be as serious as a judge.” 

Then Tom sat himself down on the table, and waxed elo- 
quent about all the righteousnesses and advantages of the new 
plan, as was his wont whenever he took up anything; going 
into it as if his life depended upon it, and sparing no abuse lo 
which he could think of, of the opposite method, which he 
denounced as ungentlemanly, cowardly, mean, lying, and no 
one knows what besides. “ Very cool of Tom,” as East thought 
but didn’t say, “ seeing as how he only came out of Egypt him- 
self last night at bedtime.” iS 

“Well, Tom,” said he at last, “you see, when you and I 
came to school there were none of these sort of notions. You 
may be right — I dare say you are. Only what one has always 
felt about the masters is, that it’s a fair trial of skill and last 
between us and them — like a match at football, or a battle. 20 
We’re natural enemies in school, that’s the fact. We’ve got 
to learn so much Latin and Greek and do so many verses, 
and they’ve got to see that we do it. If we can slip the collar 
and do so much less without getting caught, that’s one to us. 

If they can get more out of us, or catch us shirking, that’s one 25 
to them. All’s fair in war, but lying. If I run. my luck against 
theirs, and go into school without looking at my lessons and 
don’t get called up, why am I a snob or a sneak? I don’t 
tell the master I’ve learnt it. He’s got to find out whether 
I have or not ; what’s he paid for ? If he calls me up, and I 30 
get floored, he makes me write it out in Greek and English. 
Very good, he’s caught me and I don’t grumble. I grant you, 
if I go and snivel to him, and tell him I’ve really tried to learn 
it but found it so hard without a translation, or say I’ve had 
a toothache or any humbug of that kind, I’m a snob. That’s 35 
my school morality; it’s served me, and you too, Tom, for the 
matter of that, these five years. And it’s all clear and fair, 
no mistake about it. We understand it, and they understand 
it, and I don’t know what we’re to come to with any other.” 

Tom looked at him pleased, and a little puzzled. He had 40 
never heard East speak his mind seriously before, and couldn’t 


228 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


help feeling how completely he had hit his own theory and 
practice up to that time. 

“Thank you, old fellow,’’ said he. “You’re a good old 
brick to be serious, and not put out with me. I said more 
5 than I meant, I dare say, only you see I know Tm right : 
whatever you and Gower and the rest do, I shall hold on — 
I must. And as it’s all new and an uphill game, you see, one 
must hit hard and hold on tight at first.” 

“Very good,” said East; “hold on and hit away, only don’t 
lo hit under the line.” 

“But I must bring you over, Harry, or I shan’t be com- 
fortable. Now, I allow all you’ve said. We’ve always been 
honourable enemies with the masters. We found a state of 
war when we came, and went into it of course. Only don’t 
15 you think things are altered a good deal ? I don’t feel as I 
used to the masters. They seem to me to treat one quite 
differently.” 

“Yes, perhaps they do,” said East; “there’s a new set 
you see, mostly, who don’t feel sure of themselves yet. They 
20 don’t want to fight till they know the ground.” 

“I don’t think it’s only that,” said Tom. “And then the 
Doctor, he does treat one so openly, and like a gentleman, 
and as if one was working with him.” 

“Well, so he does,” said East; “he’s a splendid fellow, 
25 and when I get into the sixth I shall act accordingly. Only, 
you know, he has nothing to do with our lessons now, except 
examining us. I say, though,” looking at his watch, “it’s 
just the quarter. Come along.” 

As they walked out they got a message, to say that Arthur 
30 was just starting, and would like to say good-by; so they 
went down to the private entrance of the Schoolhouse, and 
found an open carriage, with Arthur propped up with pillows in 
it, looking already better, Tom thought. 

They jumped up on to the steps to shake hands with him, 
35 and Tom mumbled thanks for the presents he had found in 
his study, and looked round anxiously' for Arthur’s mother. 

East, who had fallen back into his usual humour, looked 
quaintly at Arthur, and said — 

“ So you’ve been at it again, through that hot-headed con- 
40 vert of yours there. He’s been making our lives a burden 
- to us all the morning about using cribs. _ I shall get floored 
to a certainty at second lesson, if I’m called up.” 


TOM brown's school DAYS 


229 


Arthur blushed and looked down. Tom struck in — 

“Oh, it’s all right. He’s converted already; he always 
comes through the mud after us, grumbling and sputtering.” 

The clock struck, and they had to go off to school, wishing 
Arthur a pleasant holiday; Tom lingering behind a moment 5 
to send his thanks and love to Arthur’s mother. 

Tom renewed the discussion after second lesson, and suc- 
ceeded so far as to get East to promise to give the new plan 
a fair trial. 

Encouraged by his success, in the evening, when they were 10 
sitting alone in the large study, where East lived now almost, 
“vice Arthur on leave,” after examining the new fishing-rod, 
which both pronounced to be the genuine article (“ play enough 
to throw a midge tied on a single hair against the wind, and 
strength enough to hold a grampus”), they naturally began 15 
talking about Arthur. Tom, who was still bubbling over 
with last night’s scene and all the thoughts of the last week, 
and wanting to clinch and fix the whole in his own mind, 
which he could never do without first going through the pro- 
cess of belabouring somebody else with it all, suddenly rushed 20 
into the subject of Arthur’s illness, and what he had said about 
death. 

East had given him the desired opening: after a serio- 
comic grumble, “that life wasn’t worth having now they were 
tied to a young beggar who was always 'raising his standard’; 25 
and that he. East, was like a prophet’s donkey, who was 
obliged to struggle on after the donkey-man who went after 
the prophet; that he had none of the pleasure of starting 
the new crotchets, and didn’t half understand them, but had 
to take the kicks and carry the luggage as if he had all the fun,” 30 
— he threw his legs up on to the sofa, and put his hands be- 
hind his head and said — 

“ Well, after all, he’s the most wonderful little fellow I ever 
came across. There ain’t such a meek, humble boy in the 
School. Hanged if I don’t think now, really, Tom, that he 35 
believes himself a much worse fellow than you or I, and that 
he don’t think he has more influence in the house than Dot 
Bowles, who came last quarter and ain’t ten yet. But he 
turns me and you round his little finger, old boy — there’s 
no mistake about that.” And East nodded at Tom sagaciously. 40 

“Now or never!” thought Tom; so, shutting his eyes and 


230 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


hardening his heart, he went straight at it, repeating all that 
Arthur had said, as near as he could remember it, in the very 
words, and all he had himself thought. The life seemed to 
ooze out of it as he went on, and several times he felt inclined 
5 to stop, give it all up, and change the subject. But some- 
how he was borne on, he had a necessity upon him to speak 
it all out, and did so. At the end he looked at East with some 
anxiety, and was delighted to see that that young gentleman 
was thoughtful and attentive. The fact is, that in the stage 
lo of his inner life at which Tom had lately arrived, his intimacy 
with and friendship for East could not have lasted if he had 
not made him aware of, and a sharer in, the thoughts that were 
beginning to exercise him. Nor indeed could the friendship 
have lasted if East had shown no sympathy with these thoughts ; 
1 5 so that it was a great relief to have unbosomed himself, and 
to have found that his friend could listen. 

Tom had always had a sort of instinct that East’s levity 
was only skin-deep; and this instinct was a true one. East 
had no want of reverence for anything he felt to be real ; but 
20 his was one of those natures that burst into what is generally 
called recklessness and impiety the moment they feel that 
anything is being poured upon them for their good which 
does not come home to their inborn sense of right, or which 
appeals to anything like self-interest in them. Daring and 
25 honest by nature, and outspoken to an extent which alarmed 
all respectabilities, with a constant fund of animal health and 
spirits which he did not feel bound to curb in any way, he had 
gained for himself with the steady part of the school (includ- 
ing as well those who wished to appear steady as those 
30 who really were so), the character of a boy whom it would 
be dangerous to be intimate with; while his own hatred of 
everything cruel, or underhand, or false, and his hearty respect 
for what he could see to be good and true, kept off the rest. 

Tom, besides being very like East in many points of char- 
35 acter, had largely developed in his composition the capacity 
for taking the weakest side. This is not putting it strongly 
enough; it was a necessity with him, he couldn’t help it any 
more than he could eating or drinking. He could never play 
on the strongest side with any heart at football or cricket, 
40 and was sure to make friends with any boy who was unpopular, 
or down on his luck. 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


231 


Now, though East was not what is generally called unpopular, 
Tom felt more and more every day, as their characters de- 
veloped, that he stood alone, and did not make friends among 
their contemporaries; and therefore sought him out. Tom 
was himself much more popular, for his power of detecting 5 
humbug was much less acute, and his instincts were much 
more sociable. He was at this period of his life, too, largely 
given to taking people for what they gave themselves out 
to bej but his singleness of heart, fearlessness, and honesty 
were just what East appreciated, and thus the two had been 10 
drawn into great intimacy. 

This intimacy had not been interrupted by Tom’s guardian- 
ship of Arthur. 

East had often, as has been said, joined them in reading 
the Bible ; but their discussions had almost always turned 1 5 
upon the characters of the men and women of whom they read , 
and not become personal to themselves. In fact, the two had 
shrunk from personal religious discussion, not knowing how 
it might end; and fearful of risking a friendship very dear to 
both, and which they felt somehow, without quite knowing 20 
why, would never be the same, but either tenfold stronger or 
sapped at its foundation after such a communing together. 

What a bother all this explaining is ! I wish we could get 
on without it. But we can’t. However, you’ll all find, if 
you haven’t found it out already, that a time comes in every 25 
human friendship when you must go down into the depths 
of yourself, and lay bare what is there to your friend, and wait 
in fear for his answer. A few moments may do it; and it 
may be (most likely will be, as you are English boys) that 
you never do it but once. But done it must be, if the friend- 30 
ship is to be worth the name. You must find what is there, 
at the very root and bottom of one another’s hearts; and if 
you are at one there, nothing on earth can, or at least ought 
to sunder you. 

East had remained lying down until Tom finished speaking, 35 
as if fearing to interrupt him; he now sat up at the table, 
and leant his head on one hand, taking up a pencil with the 
other, and working little holes with it in the table-cover. 
After a bit he looked up, stopped the pencil, and said, “Thank 
you very much, old fellow; there’s no other boy in the house 
would have done it for me but you or Arthur. I can see well 


232 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


enough/’ he went on after a pause, ‘‘all the best big fellows 
look on me with suspicion; they think I’m a devil-may-care, 
reckless young scamp. So I am — eleven hours out of twelve, 
but not the twelfth. Then all of our contemporaries worth 
5 knowing follow suit, of course; we’re very good friends at 
games and all that, but not a soul of them but you and Arthur 
ever tried to break through the crust, and see whether there 
was anything at the bottom of me; and then, the bad ones 
I won’t stand, and they know that.” 
lo “Don’t you think that’s half fancy, Harry?” 

“Not a bit of it,” said East bitterly, pegging away with 
his pencil. “I see it all plain enough. Bless you, you think 
everybody’s as straightforward and kindhearted as you are.” 

“ Well, but what’s the reason of it? There must be a reason. 
15 You can play all the games as well as any one, and sing the 
best song, and are the best company in the house. You fancy 
you’re not liked, Harry. It’s all fancy.” 

“ I only wish it was, Tom. I know 1 could be popular enough 
with all the bad ones, but that I won’t have, and the good 
20 ones won’t have me.” 

“Why not?” persisted Tom; “you don’t drink or swear, 
or get out at night; you never bully, or cheat at lessons. If 
you only showed you liked it, you’d have all the best fellows 
in the house running after you.” 

25 “Not I,” said East. Then with an effort he went on, “I’ll 
tell you what it is. I never stop the Sacrament. I can see, 
from the Doctor downwards, how that tells against me.” 

“Yes, I’ve seen that,” said Tom, “and I’ve been very sorry 
for it, and Arthur and I have talked about it. I’ve often 
30 thought of speaking to you, but it’s so hard to begin on such 
subjects. I’m very glad you’ve opened it. Now, why don’t 
you?” 

“I’ve never been confirmed,” said East. 

“Not been confirmed!” said Tom in astonishment. “I 
35 never thought of that. Why weren’t you confirmed with 
the rest of us nearly three years ago ? I always thought you’d 
been confirmed at home.” 

“No,” answered East sorrowfully; “you see this was how 
it happened. Last Confirmation was soon after Arthur came, 
, 40 and you were so taken up with him, I hardly saw either of you. 
Well, when the Doctor sent round for us about it, I was living 


TOM brown's school DAYS 


233 


mostly with Green’s set — you know the sort. They all went in 
— I dare say it was all right, and they got good by it ; I don’t 
want to judge them. Only all I could see of their reasons drove 
me just the other way. ’Twas ‘ because the Doctor liked it ; ’ 

‘ no boy got on who didn’t stay the Sacrament ; ’ it was ‘ the 5 
correct thing,’ in fact, like having a good hat to wear on Sun- 
days. I 'couldn’t stand it. I didn’t feel that I wanted to 
lead a different life, I was very well content as I was, and I 
wasn’t going to sham religious to curry favour with the Doctor, 
or any one else.” lo 

East stopped speaking, and pegged away more diligently 
than ever with his pencil. Tom was ready to cry. He felt 
half sorry at first that he had been confirmed himself. He 
seemed to have deserted his earliest friend, to have left him 
by himself at his worst need for those long years. He got up 15 
and went and sat by East and put his arm over his shoulder. 

“Dear old boy,” he said, “how careless and selfish I’ve 
been. But why didn’t you come and talk to Arthur and me?” 

“I wish to heaven 1 had,” said East, “but I was a fool. 
It’s too late talking of it now.” 20 

“Why too late? You want to be confirmed now, don’t 
you ? ” 

“I think so,” said East. “I’ve thought about it a good 
deal: only often I fancy I must be changing, because I see 
it’s to do me good here, just what stopped me last time. And 25 
then I go back again.” 

“I’ll tell you now how ’twas with me,” said Tom warmly. 

“ If it hadn’t been for Arthur, I should have done just as you 
did. I hope I should, I honour you for it. But then he 
made it out just as if it was taking the weak side before all the 30 
wwld — going in once for all against everything that’s strong 
and rich and proud and respectable, a little band of brothers 
against the whole world. And the Doctor seemed to say so 
too, only he said a great deal more.” 

“Ah!” groaned East, “but there again, that’s just another 35 
of my difficulties whenever I think about the matter. I don’t 
want to be one of your saints, one of your elect, whatever the 
right phrase is. My sympathies are all the other way; with 
the many, the poor devils who run about the streets and don’t 
go to church. Don’t stare, Tom; mind, I’m telling you all 40 
that’s in my heart — as far as I know it — but it’s all a muddle. 


234 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


You must be gentle with me if you want to land me. Now 
I’ve seen a deal of this sort of religion, I was bred up in it, 
and I can’t stand it. If nineteen-twentieths of the world 
are to be left to uncovenanted mercies, and that sort of thing, 
5 which means in plain English to go to hell, and the other 
twentieth are to rejoice at it all, why ” 

“Oh, but! Harry, they ain’t, they don’t,” broke in Tom, 
really shocked. “Oh, how I wish Arthur hadn’t gone! I’m 
such a fool about these things. But it’s all you want too, 
loEast; it is indeed. It cuts both ways somehow, being con- 
firmed and taking the Sacrament. It makes you feel on the 
side of all the good and all the bad too, of everybody in the 
world. Only there’s some great dark strong power, which 
is crushing you and everybody else. That’s what Christ con- 
15 quered, and we’ve got to fight. What a fool I am ! I can’t 
explain. If Arthur were only here!” 

“I begin to get a glimmering of what you mean,” said East. 

“I say now,” said Tom eagerly, “do you remember how 
we both hated Flashman?” 

20 “Of course I do,” said East; “I hate him still. What 
then?” 

“Well, when I came to take the Sacrament, I had a great 
struggle about that. I tried to put him out of my head; 
and when I couldn’t do that, I tried to think of him as evil, 
25 as something that the Lord who was loving me hated, and 
which I might hate too. But it wouldn’t do. I broke down: 
I believe Christ himself broke me down ; and when the Doctor 
gave me the bread and wine, and leant over me praying, I 
prayed for poor Flashman, as if it had been you or Arthur.” 
30 East buried his face in his hands on the table. Tom could 
feel the table tremble. At last he looked up. “Thank you 
again, Tom,” said he; “you don’t know what you may have 
done for me to-night. I think I see now how the right sort 
of sympathy with poor devils is got at.” 

35 “And you’ll stop the Sacrament next time, won’t you?” 
said Tom. 

“Can I, before I’m confirmed?” 

“Go and ask the Doctor.” 

“I will.” 

40 That very night, after prayers. East followed the Doctor 
and the old Verger bearing the candle, upstairs. Tom watched, 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


235 


and saw the Doctor turn round when he heard footsteps follow- 
ing him closer than usual, and say, “ Hah, East ! Do you want 
to speak to me, my man?'’ 

“If you please, sir;" and the private door closed, and Tom 
went to his study in a state of great trouble of mind. 5 

It was almost an hour before East came back: then he 
rushed in breathless. 

“Well, it's all right," he shouted, seizing Tom by the hand. 

“I feel as if a ton weight were off my mind." 

“Hurrah," said Tom. “I knew it would be: but tell us all lo 
about it." 

“Well, I just told him all about it. You can't think how 
kind and gentle he was, the great grim man, whom I've feared 
more than anybody on earth. When I stuck, he lifted me, 
just as if I'd been a little child. And he seemed to know all 15 
I'd felt, and to have gone through it all. And I burst out 
crying — more than I've done this five years, and he sat down 
by me, and stroked my head; and I went blundering on, 
and told him all; much worse things than I've told you. 
And he wasn't shocked a bit, and didn't snub me, or tell me 20 
I was a fool, and it was all nothing but pride or wickedness, 
tho' I dare say it was. And he didn't tell me not to follow 
out my thoughts, and he didn't give me any cut-and -dried 
explanation. But when I'd done he just talked a bit — I can 
hardly remember what he said, yet; but it seemed to spread 25 
round me like healing, and strength, and light ; and to bear me 
up, and plant me on a rock, where I could hold my footing, 
and fight for myself. I don't know what to do, I feel so happy. 
And it's all owing to you, dear old boy !" and he seized Tom's 
hand again. 30 

“And you're to come to the Communion?" said Tom. 

“Yes, and to be confirmed in the holidays." 

Tom's delight was as great as his friend's. But he hadn't 
yet had out all his own talk, and was bent on improving the 
occasion : so he proceeded to propound Arthur's theory about 35 
not being sorry for his friends' deaths, which he had hitherto 
kept in the background, and by which he was much exercised; 
for he didn't feel it honest to take what pleased him and throw 
over the rest, and was trying vigorously to persuade himself 
that he should like all his best friends to die off-hand. 40 

But East's powers of remaining serious were exhausted, 


236 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


and in five minutes he was saying the most ridiculous things 
he could think of, till Tom was almost getting angry again. 

Despite of himself, however, he couldn’t help laughing and 
giving it up, when East appealed to him with, “Well, Tom, 
5 you ain’t going to punch my head, I hope, because I insist 
upon being sorry when you got to earth?” 

And so their talk finished for that time, and they tried to 
learn first lesson; with very poor success, as appeared next 
morning, when they were called up and narrowly escaped 
lo being floored, which ill-luck, however, did not sit heavily on 
either of their souls. 


' i'ir 


CHAPTER VIII 

TOM brown’s last MATCH 

“Heaven grant the manlier heart, that timely, ere 
Youth fly, with life’s real tempest would be coping; 

The fruit of dreamy hoping 
Is, waking, blank despair.” 

— Clough : Ambarvalia. 

The curtain now rises upon the last act of our little drama 
— for hard-hearted publishers warn me that a single volume 
must of necessity have an end. Well, well ! the pleasantest 
things must come to an end. I little thought last long vaca- 
tion, when I began these pages to help while away some spare s 
time at a watering-place, how vividly many an old scene, 
which had lain hid away for years in some dusty old corner 
of my brain, would come back again, and stand before me as 
clear and bright as if it had happened yesterday. The book 
has been a most grateful task to me, and I only hope that lo 
all you, my dear young friends who read it (friends assuredly 
you must be, if you get as far as this) will be half as sorry to 
come to the last stage as I am. 

Not but what there has been a solemn and a sad side to it. 

As the old scenes became living, and the actors in them be- 15 
came living too, many a grave in the Crimea and distant India, 
as well as in the quiet churchyards of our dear old country, 
seemed to open and send forth their dead, and their voices 
and looks and ways were again in one’s ears and eyes, as in the 
old Schooldays. But this was not sad; how should it be, 20 
if we believe as our Lord has taught us? How should it be, 
when one more turn of the wheel, and we shall be by their 
sides again, learning from them again, perhaps, as we did 
when we were new boys? 

Then there were others of the old faces so dear to us once, 25 

237 



238 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


who had somehow or another just gone clean out of sight — 
are they dead or living? We know not, but the thought of 
them brings no sadness with it. Wherever they are, we can 
well believe they are doing God’s work and getting His wages. 

5 But are there not some, whom we still see sometimes in the 
streets, whose haunts and homes we know, whom we could 
probably find almost any day in the week if we were set to do 
it, yet from whom we are really farther than we are from the 
dead, and from those who have gone out of our ken? Yes, 
lo there are and must be such; and therein lies the sadness of 
old School memories. Yet of these our old comrades, from 
whom more than time and space separate us, there are some, 
by whose sides we can feel sure that we shall stand again 
when time shall be no more. We may think of one another 
15 now as dangerous fanatics or narrow bigots, with whom no 
truce is possible, from whom we shall only sever more and 
more to the end of our lives, whom it would be our respective 
duties to imprison or hang, if we had the power. We must 
go our way, and they theirs, as long as flesh and spirit hold 
20 together: but let our own Rugby poet® speak words of heal- 
ing for this trial : — 

“To veer how vain ! on, onward strain. 

Brave barks ! in light, in darkness too ; 

Through winds and tides one compass guides, 

25 To that, and your own selves, be true. 

“But, O blithe breeze ! and O great seas. 

Though ne’er that earliest parting past, 

On your wide plain they join again, 

Together lead them home at last. 

30 “One port, methought, alike they sought. 

One purpose hold where’er they fare. 

O bounding breeze, O rushing seas ! 

At last, at last, unite them there !”^ 

This is not mere longing, it is prophecy. So over these too, 
35 our old friends who are friends no more, we sorrow not as men 
without hope. It is only for those who seem to us to have 
lost compass and purpose, and to be driven helplessly on rocks 

^ Clough, Amharvalia. 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


239 


and quicksands; whose lives are spent in the service of the 
world, the flesh, and the devil; for self alone, and not for 
their fellow-men, their country, or their God, that we must 
mourn and pray without sure hope and without light ; trusting 
only that He, in whose hands they as well as we are, who has 5 
died for them as well as for us, who sees all His creatures 

“With larger other eyes than ours,° 

To make allowance for us all,” 

will in His own way and at His own time, lead them also home. 

* * * Hs * * 

Another two years have passed , and it is again the end of 10 
the summer half-year at Rugby ; in fact, the School has broken 
up. The fifth-form examinations were over last week, and 
upon them have followed the Speeches, and the sixth-form 
examinations for exhibitions; and they too are over now. 
The boys have gone to all the winds of heaven, except the town 15 
boys and the eleven, and the few enthusiasts besides who 
have asked leave to stay in their houses to see the result of 
the cricket matches. For this year the Wellesburn return 
match and the Marylebone match® are played at Rugby, to 
the great delight of the town and neighbourhood, and the 20 
sorrow of those aspiring young cricketers who have been reckon- 
ing for the last three months on showing off at Lords’ ground.® 

The Doctor started for the Lakes yesterday morning, after 
an interview with the Captain of the eleven, in the presence 
of Thomas, at which he arranged in what School the cricket 25 
dinners were to be, and all other matters necessary for the satis- 
factory carrying out of the festivities ; and warned them as to 
keeping all spirituous liquors out of the close, and having the 
gates closed by nine o’clock. 

The Wellesburn match was played out with great success 3° 
yesterday, the School winning by three wickets; and to-day 
the great event of the cricketing year, the Marylebone match, 
is being played. What a match it has been ! The London 
eleven came down by an afternoon train yesterday, in time 
to see the end of the Wellesburn match; and as soon as it 35 
was over, their leading men and umpire inspected the ground, 
criticising it rather unmercifully. The Captain of the School 
eleven, and one or tw^o others, who had played the Lords’ 


240 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


match before, and knew old Mr. Aislabie and several of the 
Lords’ men, accompanied them: while the rest of the eleven 
looked on from under the Three Trees with admiring eyes, 
and asked one another the names of the illustrious strangers, 
5 and recounted how many runs each of them had made in the 
late matches in Bell’s Life. They looked such hard-bitten, 
wiry, whiskered fellows, that their young adversaries felt 
rather desponding as to the result of the morrow’s match. 
The ground was at last chosen, and two men set to work upon 
lo it to water and roll ; and then, there being yet some half hour 
of daylight, some one had suggested a dance on the turf. The 
close was half full of citizens and their families, and the idea 
was hailed with enthusiasm. The cornopean-player was still 
on the ground; in five minutes the eleven and half a dozen 
15 of the Wellesburn and Marylebone men got partners somehow 
or another, and a merry country-dance was going on, to which 
every one flocked, and new couples joined in every minute, 
till there were a hundred of them going down the middle and 
up again — and the long line of School buildings looked gravely 
20 down on them, every window glowing with the last rays of 
the western sun, and the rooks clanged about in the tops of 
the old elms, greatly excited, and resolved on having their 
country-dance too, and the great flag flapped lazily in the 
gentle western breeze. All together it was a sight which would 
25 have made glad the heart of our brave old founder, Lawrence 
Sheriff,® if he were half as good a fellow as I take him to have 
been. It was a cheerful sight to see; but what made it so 
valuable in the sight of the Captain of the School eleven was, 
that he there saw his young hands shaking off their shyness 
30 and awe of the Lords’ men, as they crossed hands and capered 
about on the grass together; for the strangers entered into it 
all, and threw away their cigars, and danced and shouted like 
boys; while old Mr. Aislabie stood by looking on in his white 
hat, leaning on a bat, in benevolent enjoyment. “This hop 
35 will be worth thirty runs to us to-morrow, and will be the 
making of Haggles and Johnson,” thinks the young leader, 
as he revolves many things in his mind, standing by the side 
of Mr. Aislabie, whom he will not leave for a minute, for he 
feels that the character of the School for courtesy is resting 
40 on his shoulders. 

But when a quarter to nine struck, and he saw old Thomas 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


241 


beginning to fidget about with the keys in his hand, he thought 
of the Doctor’s parting monition, and stopped the cornopean 
at once, notwithstanding the loud-voiced remonstrances from 
all sides; and the crowd scattered away from the close, the 
eleven all going into the Schoolhouse, where supper and beds 5 
were provided for them by the Doctor’s orders. 

Deep had been the consultations at supper as to the order 
of going in, who should bowl the first over, whether it would 
be best to play steady or freely; and the youngest hands 
declared that they shouldn’t be a bit nervous, and praised 10 
their opponents as the jolliest fellows in the world, except 
perhaps their old friends the Wellesburn men. How far a 
little good-nature from their elders will go with the right sort 
of boys ! 

The morning had dawned bright and warm, to the intense 15 
relief of many an anxious youngster, up betimes to mark the 
signs of the weather. The eleven went down in a body before 
breakfast, for a plunge in the cold bath in the corner of the 
close. The ground was in splendid order, and soon after ten 
o’clock, before the spectators had arrived, all was ready, and 20 
two of the Lords’ men took their places at the wicket; the 
School, with the usual liberality of young hands, having put 
their adversaries in first. Old Bailey stepped up to the wicket, 
and called play, and the match has begun. 

* 5lJ sf: * * :1s 

“ Oh, well bowled® ! well bowled, Johnson !” cries the Captain, 25 
catching up the ball and sending it high above the rook trees, 
while the third Marylebone man walks away from the wicket, 
and old Bailey gravely sets up the middle stump again and 
puts the balls on. 

'‘How many runs?” Away scamper three boys to the 30 
scoring-table, and are back again in a minute amongst the 
rest of the eleven, who are collected together iii a knot between 
wicket. "Only eighteen runs, and three wickets down!” 
"Huzza for old Rugby!” sings out Jack Haggles, the long- 
stop, toughest and burliest of i)oys, commonly called ' Swiper 35 
Jack’; and forthwith stands on his head, and brandishes his 
legs in the air in triumph, till the next boy catches hold of 
his heels, and throws him over on to his back. 

" Steady there, *don’t be such an ass. Jack,” says the Captain; 

R 


242 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


‘Sve haven’t got the best wicket yet. Ah, look out now at 
cover-point,” adds he, as he sees a long-armed, bare-headed, 
slashing-looking player coming to the wicket. ‘‘And, Jack, 
mind your hits ; he steals more runs than any man in England.” 

5 And they all find that they have their work to do now; 
the newcomer’s off-hitting is tremendous, and his running 
like a flash of lightning. Pie is never in his ground, except 
when his wicket is down. Nothing in the whole game so 
trying to boys ; he has stolen three byes in the first ten minutes, 
lo and Jack Raggles is furious, and begins throwing over savagely 
to the further wicket, until he is sternly stopped by the Captain. 
It is all that young gentleman can do to keep his team steady, 
but he knows that everything depends on it, and faces his 
work bravely. The score creeps up to fifty, the boys begin 
15 to look blank, and the spectators, who are now mustering 
strong, are very silent. The ball flies off his bat to all parts 
of the field, and he gives no rest and no catches to any one. 
But cricket is full of glorious chances, and the goddess who 
presides over it loves to bring down the most skilful players. 
20 Johnson the young bowler is getting wild, and bowls a ball 
almost wide to the off ; the batter steps out and cuts it beauti- 
fully to where cover-point is standing very deep, in fact almost 
off the ground. The ball comes skimming and twisting along 
about three feet from the ground ; he rushes at it, and it sticks 
25 somehow or other in the fingers of his left hand, to the utter 
astonishment of himself and the whole field. Such a catch 
hasn’t been made in the close for years, and the cheering is 
maddening. “Pretty cricket,” says the Captain, throwing 
himself on the ground by the deserted wicket with a long 
30 breath: he feels that a crisis has passed. 

I wish I had space to describe the whole match; how the 
Captain stumped the next man off a leg-shooter, and bowled 
slow cobs to old Mr. Aislabie, who came in for the last wicket. 
How the Lords’ men were out by half-past twelve o’clock for 
35 ninety-eight runs. How the Captain of the School eleven 
went in first to give his men pluck, and scored twenty-five 
in beautiful style; how Rugby was only four behind in the 
first innings. What a glorious dinner they had in the fourth- 
form School, and how the cover-point hitter sang the most 
40 topping comic songs, and old Mr. Aislabie made the best speeches 
that ever were heard, afterwards. But I haven’t space, that’s 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


243 


the fact, and so you must fancy it all, and carry yourselves 
on to half-past seven o'clock, when the school are again in, 
with five wickets down and only thirty-two runs to make to 
win. The Marylebone men played carelessly in their second 
innings, but they are working like horses now to save the match. 5 

There is much healthy, hearty, happy life scattered up and 
down the close ; but the group to which I beg to call your 
especial attention is there, on the slope of the island, which 
looks towards the cricket-ground. It consists of three figures; 
two are seated on a bench, and one on the ground at their feet. 10 
The first, a tall, slight, and rather gaunt man, with a bushy 
eyebrow, and a dry humorous smile, is evidently a clergyman. 
He is carelessly dressed, and looks rather used up, which isn’t 
much to be wondered at, seeing that he has Just finished six 
weeks of examination work; but there he basks, and spreads 15 
himself out in the evening sun, bent on enjoying life, though 
he doesn’t quite know what to do with his arms and legs. 
Surely it is our friend the young Master, whom we have had 
glimpses of before, but his face has gained a great deal since 
we last came across him. 20 

And by his side, in white flannel shirt and trousers, straw 
hat, the Captain’s belt, and the untanned yellow cricket shoes 
which all the eleven wear, sits a strapping figure, near six feet 
high, with ruddy tanned face and whiskers, curly brown hair, 
and a laughing dancing eye. He is leaning forward with 25 
his elbows resting on his knees, and dandling his favourite bat, 
with which he has made thirty or forty runs to-day, in his 
strong brown hands. It is Tom Brown, grown into a young 
man nineteen years old, a praepostor and Captain of the eleven, 
spending his last day as a Rugby boy, and let us hope as much 30 
wiser as he is bigger, since we last had the pleasure of coming 
across him. 

And at their feet on the warm dry ground, similarly dressed, 
sits Arthur, Turkish fashion, with his bat across his knees. 

He too is no longer a boy, less of a boy in fact than Tom, if 35 
one may judge from the thoughtfulness of his face, which is 
somewhat paler too than one could wish; but his figure, 
though slight, is well knit and active, and all his old timidity 
has disappeared, and is replaced by silent quaint fun, with 
which his face twinkles all over, as he listens to the broken talk 40 
between the other two, in which he joins every now and then. 


244 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


All three are watching the ganme eagerly and joining in the 
cheering which follows every good hit. It is pleasing to see 
the easy friendly footing which the pupils are on with their 
master, perfectly respectful, yet with no reserve and nothing 
S forced in their intercourse. Tom has clearly abandoned the 
old theory of ‘‘natural enemies” in this case at any rate. 

But it is time to listen to what they are saying, and see what 
we can gather out of it. 

“I don’t object to your theory,” says the master, “and 
lo I allow you have made a fair case for yourself. But now, 
in such books as Aristophanes for instance, you’ve been 
reading a play this half with the Doctor, haven’t you?” 

“Yes, the Knights,®” answered Tom. 

“Well, I’m sure you would have enjoyed the wonderful 
15 humour of it twice as much if you had taken more pains with 
your scholarship.” 

“Well, sir, 1 don’t believe any boy in the form enjoyed 
the sets-to between Cleon and the Sausage-seller more than 
I did — eh, Arthur?” said Tom, giving him a stir with his 
20 foot. 

“Yes, I must say he did,” said Arthur. “I think, sir, 
you’ve hit upon the wrong book there.” 

“Not a bit of it,” said the master. “Why, in those very 
passages of arms, how can you thoroughly appreciate them 
25 unless you are master of the weapons? and the weapons are 
the language, which you. Brown, have never half worked at; 
and so, as I say, you must have lost all the delicate shades 
of meaning which make the best part of the fun.” 

“Oh! well played — bravo, Johnson!” shouted Arthur, 
30 dropping his bat and clapping furiously, and Tom joined in 
with a “bravo, Johnson!” which might have been heard at 
the chapel. 

“Eh! what was it? I didn’t see,” inquired the master; 
“they only got one run, I thought?” 

35 “No, but such a ball, three-quai'ters length and coming 
straight for his leg bail. Nothing but that turn of the wrist 
could have saved him, and he drew it away to leg for a safe 
one. Bravo, Johnson!” 

“How well they are bowling, though,” said Arthur; “they 
40 don’t mean to be beat, I can see.” 

“There now,” struck in the master, “you see that’s just 


TOM brown’s school DAYS 


245 


what I have been preaching this half-hour. The delicate 
play is the true thing. I don’t understand cricket, so I don’t 
enjoy those fine draws w’hich you tell me are the best play, 
though when you or Haggles hit a ball hard away for six I 
am as delighted as any one. Don’t you see the analogy?” 5 

‘‘Yes, sir,” answered Tom, looking up roguishly, “I see; 
only the question remains whether 1 should have got most 
good by understanding Greek particles or cricket thoroughly. 
I’m such a thick, I never should have had time for both.” 

“I see you are an incorrigible,” said the master with a 10 
chuckle; “but I refute you by an example. Arthur there 
has taken in Greek and cricket too.” 

“Yes, but no thanks to him ; Greek came natural to him. 
Why, when he first came I remember he used to read Herod- 
otus® for pleasure as I did Don Quixote, and couldn’t have 15 
made a false concord if he’d tried ever so hard — and then 
I looked after his cricket.” 

“ Out ! Bailey has given him out — do you see, Tom ? ” 
cries Arthur. “How foolish of them to run so hard.” 

“ Well, it can’t be helped, he has played very well. Whose 20 
turn is it to go in?” 

“I don’t know; they’ve got your list in the tent.” 

“Let’s go and see,” said Tom, rising; but at this moment 
Jack Haggles and two or three more came running to the 
island® moat. 25 

“Oh, Brown, mayn’t I go in next?” shouts the Swiper. 

“Whose name is next on the list?” says the Captain. 

“Winter’s, and then Arthur’s,” answers the boy who carries 
it; “but there are only twenty-six runs to get, and no time 
to lose. I heard Mr. Aislabie say that the stumps must be 30 
drawn at a quarter past eight exactly.” 

“Oh, do let the Swiper go in,” chorus the boys; so Tom 
yields against his better judgment. 

“I dare say now I’ve lost the match by this nonsense,” 
he says, as he sits down again; “they’ll be sure to get Jack’s 35 
wicket in three or four minutes; however, you’ll have the 
chance, sir, of seeing a hard hit or two,” adds he, smiling, 
and turning to the master. 

“Come, none of your irony, Brown,” answers the master. 

“ I’m beginning to understand the game scientifically. What 40 
a noble game it is. tool” 


246 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


“Isn’t it? But it’s more than a game. It’s an institution,” 
said Tom. 

“Yes,” said Arthur, “the birthright of British boys old 
and young, as habeas corpus and trial by jury are of British 
5 men.” 

“ The discipline and reliance on one another which it teaches 
is so valuable, I think,” went on the master, “it ought to be 
such an unselfish game. It merges the individual in the eleven ; 
he doesn’t play that he may win, but that his side may.” 
lo “That’s very true,” said Tom, “and that’s why football 
and cricket, now one comes to think of it, are much better 
games than fives’ or hare-and-hounds, or any others where 
the object is to come in first or to win for one’s self, and not 
that one’s side may win.” 

15 “And then the Captain of the eleven!” said the master, 
“ what a post is his in our School-world ! almost as hard as 
the Doctor’s; requiring skill and gentleness and firmness, 
and I know not what other rare qualities.” 

“Which don’t he wish he may get!” said Tom, laughing; 
20 “at any rate he hasn’t got them yet, or he wouldn’t have 
been such a flat to-night as to let Jack Haggles go in out of 
his turn.” 

“ Ah ! the Doctor never would have done that,” said Arthur, 
demurely. “Tom, you’ve a great deal to learn yet in the art 
25 of ruling.” 

“Well, I wish you’d tell the Doctor so, then, and get him 
to let me stop till I’m twenty. I don’t want to leave, I’m 
sure.” 

“What a sight it is,” broke in the master, “the Doctor as 
30 a ruler ! Perhaps ours is the only little corner of the British 
Empire which is thoroughly, wisely, and strongly ruled just 
now. I’m more and more thankful every day of my life that 
I came here to be under him.” 

“So am I, I’m sure,” said Tom; “and more and more sorry 
35 that I’ve got to leave.” 

“Every place and thing one sees here reminds one of some 
wise act of his,” went on the master. “This island® now — 
you remember the time. Brown, when it was laid out in small 
gardens, and cultivated by frost-bitten fags in February and 
40 March?” 

“Of course I do,” said Tom; “didn’t I hate spending two 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


247 


hours in the afternoon grubbing in the tough dirt with the 
stump of a fives' bat? But turf-cart was good fun enough." 

“ I dare say it was, but it was always leading to fights with 
the townspeople; and then the stealing flowers out of all the 
gardens in Rugby for the Easter show was abominable." 5 

“Well, so it was," said Tom, looking down, “but we fags 
couldn't help ourselves. But what has that to do with the 
Doctor's ruling?" 

“A great deal, I think," said the master; “what brought 
island -fagging to an end?" 10 

“Why, the Easter Speeches were put off till Midsummer," 
said Tom, “and the sixth had the gymnastic poles put up 
here." 

“Well, and who changed the time of the Speeches, and put 
the idea of gymnastic poles into the heads of their worships, 15 
the sixth form?" asked the master. 

“The Doctor, I suppose," said Tom. “I never thought of 
that." 

“Of course you didn't," said the master, “or else, fag as 
you were, you would have shouted with the whole school 20 
against putting down old customs. And that's the way that 
all the Doctor’s reforms have been carried out when he has 
been left to himself — quietly and naturally, putting a good 
thing in the place of a bad, and letting the bad die out; no 
wavering, and no hurry — the best thing that could be done 25 
for the time being, and patience for the rest.” 

“Just Tom's own way," chimed in Arthur, nudging Tom 
with his elbow, “driving a nail where it will go;" to which 
allusion Tom answered by a sly kick. 

“Exactly so," said the master, innocent of the allusion and 30 
by-play. 

Meantime Jack Raggles, with his sleeves tucked up above 
his great brown elbows, scorning pads and gloves, has pre- 
sented himself at the wicket; and having run one for a for- 
ward drive of Johnson's, is about to receive his first ball. 35 
There are only twenty-four runs to make, and four wickets 
to go down; a winning match if they play decently steady. 
The ball is a very swift one, and rises fast, catching Jack on 
the outside of the thigh, and bounding away as if from india- 
rubber, while they run two for a leg-bye amidst great applause, 40 
and shouts from Jack’s many admirers. The next ball is a 


248 


TOM BROWN’S SCHOOL DAYS 


beautifully pitched ball for the outer stump, which the reck- 
less and unfeeling Jack catches hold of, and hits right round 
to leg for five, while the applause becomes deafening: only 
seventeen runs to get with four wickets — the game is all but 
5 ours ! 

It is over now, and Jack walks swaggering about his wicket, 
with the bat over his shoulder, while Mr. Aislabie holds a short 
parley with his men. Then the cover-point hitter, that cun- 
ning man, goes on to bowl slow twisters. Jack waves his hand 
lo triumphantly towards the tent, as much as to say, “ See if 
I don’t finish it all off now in three hits.” 

Alas, my son Jack ! the enemy is too old for thee. The 
first ball of the over Jack steps out and meets, swiping with 
all his force. If he had only allowed for the twist ! but he 
15 hasn’t, and so the ball goes spinning up straight into the air, 
as if it would never come down again. Away runs Jack, 
shouting and trusting to the chapter of accidents, but the 
bowler runs steadily under it, judging every spin, and calling 
out “I have it,” catches it, and playfully pitches it on to the 
20 back of the stalwart Jack, who is departing with a rueful 
countenance. 

“I knew how it would be,” says Tom, rising. “Come along, 
the game’s getting very serious.” 

So they leave the island and go to the tent, and after deep 
25 consultation Arthur is sent in, and goes off to the wicket with 
a last exhortation from Tom to play steady and keep his bat 
straight. To the suggestions that Winter is the best bat left, 
Tom only replies, “ Arthur is the steadiest, and Johnson will 
make the runs if the wicket is only kept up.” 

30 “I am surprised to see Arthur in the eleven,” said the 
master, as they stood together in front of the dense crowd, 
which was now closing in round the ground. 

“Well, I’m not quite sure that he ought to be in for his 
play,” said Tom, “but I couldn’t help putting him in. It 
35 will do him so much good, and you can’t think what I owe 
him.” 

The master smiled. The clock strikes eight, and the whole 
field becomes fevered with excitement. Arthur, after two 
narrow escapes, scores one; and Johnson gets the ball. The 
40 bowling and fielding are superb, and Johnson’s batting worthy 
the occasion. He makes here a two, and there a one, rnanag- 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


249 


ing to keep the ball to himself, and Arthur backs up and runs 
perfectly: only eleven runs to make now, and the crowd 
scarcely breathe. At last Arthur gets the ball again, and 
actually drives it forward for two, and feels prouder than when 
he got the three best prizes, at hearing Tom’s shout of joy, 5 
“Well played, well played, young un!” 

But the next ball is too much for a young hand, and his 
bails fly different ways. Nine runs to make, and two wickets 
to go down — it is too much for human nerves. 

Before Winter can get in, the omnibus which is to take the 10 
Lords’^ men to the train pulls up at the side of the close, and 
Mr. Aislabie and Tom consult, and give out that the stumps 
will be drawn after the next over. And so ends the great 
match. Winter and Johnson carry out their bats, and, it 
being a one day’s match, the Lords’ men are declared the 15 
winners, they having scored the most in the first innings. 

But such a defeat is a victory: so think Tom and all the 
School eleven, as they accompany their conquerors to the 
omnibus, and send them off with three ringing cheers, after 
Mr. Aislabie has shaken hands all round, saying to Tom, “I 20 
must compliment you, sir, on your eleven, and I hope we shall 
have you for a member if you come up to town.” 

As Tom and the rest of the eleven were turning back into 
the close, and everybody was beginning to cry out for another 
country dance, encouraged by the success of the night before, 25 
the young master, who was just leaving the close, stopped 
him, and asked him to come up to tea at half-past eight, 
adding, “I won’t keep you more than half an hour, and ask 
Arthur to come up too.” 

“I’ll come up with you directly, if you’ll let me,” said Tom, 30 
“for I feel rather melancholy, and not quite up to the country 
dance and supper with the rest.” 

“ Do by all means,” said the master ; “ I’ll wait here for you.” 

So Tom went off to get his boots and things from the tent, 
to tell Arthur of the invitation, and to speak to his second 35 
in command about stopping the dancing and shutting up the 
close as soon as it grew dusk. Arthur promised to follow 
as soon as he had had a dance. So Tom handed his things 
over to the man in charge of the tent, and walked quietly 
away to the gate where the master was waiting, and the two 4 ° 
took their way together up the Hillmorton road. 


250 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


Of course they found the master’s house locked up, and 
all the sec-vants away in the close, about this time no doubt 
footing it away on the grass with extreme delight to them- 
selves, and in utter oblivion of the unfortunate bachelor their 
5 master, whose one enjoyment in the shape of meals was his 
“dish of tea” (as our grandmothers called it) in the evening; 
and the phrase was apt in his case, for he always poured his 
out into the saucer before drinking. Great was the good 
man’s horror at finding himself shut out of his own house, 
lo Had he been alone, he would have treated it as a matter of 
course, and would have strolled contentedly up and down 
his gravel-walk until some one came home; but he was hurt 
at the stain on his character of host, especially as the guest 
was a pupil. However, the guest seemed to think it a great 
15 joke, and presently, as they poked about round the house, 
mounted a wall, from which he could reach a passage window: 
the window, as it turned out, was not bolted, so in another 
minute Tom was in the house and down at the front door, 
which he opened from inside. The master chuckled grimly 
20 at this burglarious entry, and insisted on leaving the hall-door 
and two of the front windows open, to frighten the truants 
on their return; and then the two set about foraging for tea, 
in which operation the master was much at fault, having the 
faintest possible idea of where to find anything, and being 
25 moreover wondrously short-sighted; but Tom by a sort of 
instinct knew the right cupboards in the kitchen and pantry, 
and soon managed to place on the snuggery table better 
materials for a meal than had appeared there probably during 
the reign of his tutor, who was then and there initiated, amongst 
30 other things, into the excellence of that mysterious condiment, 
a dripping-cake. The cake was newly baked, and all rich and 
flaky; Tom had found it reposing in the cook’s private cup- 
board, awaiting her return; and as a warning to her, they 
finished it to the last crumb. The kettle sang away merrily 
35 on the hob of the snuggery, for, notwithstanding the time of 
year, they lighted a fire, throwing both the windows wide 
open at the same time; the heap of books and papers were 
pushed away to the other end of the table, and the great solitary 
engraving of King’s College ° Chapel over the mantelpiece 
40 looked less stiff than usual, as they settled themselves down 
in the twilight to the serious drinking of tea. 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


251 


After some talk on the match, and other indifferent subjects, 
the conversation came naturally back to Tom’s approaching 
departure, over which he began again to make his moan. 

“Well, we shall all miss you quite as much as you will miss 
us,” said the master. “ You are the Nestor® of the School now, 5 
are you not?” 

“Yes, ever since East left,” answered Tom. 

“By the bye, have you heard from him?” 

“Yes, I had a letter in February, just before he started for 
India to join his regiment.” 10 

“ He will make a capital officer.” 

“Ay, won’t he!” said Tom, brightening; “no fellow could 
handle boys better, and I suppose soldiers are very like boys. 
And he’ll never tell them to go where he won’t go himself. No 
mistake about that — a braver fellow never walked.” 15 

“ His year in the sixth will have taught him a good deal that 
will be useful to him now.” 

“So it will,” said Tom, staring into the fire. “Poor dear 
Harry,” he went on, “how well 1 remember the day we were 
put out of the twenty. How he rose to the situation, and 20 
burnt his cigar cases, and gave away his pistols, and pondered 
on the constitutional authority of the sixth, and his new duties 
to the Doctor, and the fifth form, and the fags. Ay, and no 
fellow ever acted up to them better, though he was always a 
people’s man — for the fags, and against constituted author- 25 
ities. He couldn’t help that, you know. I’m sure the Doctor 
must have liked him?” said Tom, looking up inquiringly. 

“The Doctor sees the good in every one, and appreciates it,” 
said the master, dogmatically; “but I hope East will get a 
good colonql. He won’t do if he can’t respect those above him. 30 
How long it took him, even here, to learn the lesson of obeying.” 

“Well, I wish I were alongside of him,” said Tom. “If I 
can’t be at Rugby, I want to be at work in the world, and not 
dawdling away three years at Oxford.” 

“What do you mean by ‘at work in the world’?” said the 35 
master, pausing, with his lips close to his saucerful of tea, and 
peering at Tom over it. 

“Well, I mean real work; one’s profession; whatever one 
will have really to do, and make one’s living by. I want to 
be doing some real good, feeling that I am not only at play in 
the world,” answered Tom, rather puzzled to find out himself 40 
what he really did mean. 


252 


TOM brown's school days 


‘‘You are mixing up two very different things in your head, 
I think, Brown,'’ said the master, putting down the empty 
saucer, “and you ought to get clear about them. You talk 
of ‘working to get your living,' and ‘doing some real good in 
5 the world,' in the same breath. Now, you may be getting a 
very good living in a profession, and yet doing no good at all 
in the world, but quite the contrary, at the same time. Keep 
the latter before you as your one object, and you will be right, 
whether you make a living or not ; but if you dwell on the other, 
lo you’ll very likely drop into mere money-making, and let the 
world take care of itself for good or evil. Don't be in a hurry 
about finding your work in the world for yourself ; you are not 
old enough to judge for yourself yet, but just look about you 
in the place you find yourself in, and try to make things a little 
15 better and honester there. You’ll find plenty to keep your 
hand in at Oxford, or wherever else you go. And don’t be led 
away to think this part of the world important, and that unim- 
portant. Every corner of the world is important. No man 
knows whether this part or that is most so, but every man may 
20 do some honest work in his own corner." And then the good 
man went on to talk wisely to Tom of the sort of work which he 
might take up as an undergraduate; and warned him of the 
prevalent University sins, and explained to him the many and 
great differences between University and School life; till the 
25 twilight changed into darkness, and they heard the truant ser- 
vants stealing in by the back entrance. 

“ I wonder where Arthur can be," said Tom at last, looking 
at his watch; “why, it’s nearly half-past nine already." 

“Oh, he is comfortably at supper with the eleven, forgetful 
30 of his oldest friends,” said the master. “Nothing has given 
me greater pleasure," he went on, “than your friendship for 
him; it has been the making of you both.” 

“Of me, at any rate," answered Tom; “I should never have 
been here now but for him. It was the luckiest chance in the 
35 world that sent him to Rugby, and made him my chum." 

“Why do you talk of lucky chances?" said the master; “I 
don’t know that there are any such things in the world; at 
any rate there was neither luck nor chance in that matter." 

Tom looked at him inquiringly, and he went on. “Do you 
40 remember when the Doctor lectured you and East at the end 
of one half year, when you were in the shell,® and had been get- 
ting into all sorts of scrapes?" 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


253 


“Yes, well enough,” said Tom, “it was the half year before 
Arthur came.” 

“ Exactly so,” answered the master. “ Now, I was with him 
a few minutes afterwards, and he was in great distress about 
you two. And, after some talk, we both agreed that you in 5 
particular wanted some object in the School beyond games 
and mischief; for it was quite clear that you never would 
make the regular school work your first object. And so the 
Doctor, at the beginning of the next half year, looked out the 
best of the new boys, and separated you and East, and put 10 
the young boy into your study, in the hope that when you had 
somebody to lean on you, you would begin to stand a little 
steadier yourself, and get manliness and thoughtfulness. And 
I can assure you he has watched the experiment ever since 
with great satisfaction. Ah ! not one of you boys will ever 15 
know the anxiety you have given him, or the care with which 
he has watched over every step in your school lives.” 

Up to this time, Tom had never wholly given in to, or under- 
stood the Doctor. At first he had thoroughly feared him. For 
some years, as I have tried to show, he had learnt to regard him 20 
with love and respect, and to think him a very great and wise 
and good man. But, as regarded his own position in the school, 
of which he was no little proud, Tom had no idea of giving 
any one credit for it but himself ; and, truth to tell, was a very 
self-conceited young gentleman on the subject. He was wont 25 
to boast that he had fought his own way fairly up the School, 
and had never made up to, or been taken up by any big fellow 
or master, and that it was now quite a different place from what 
it was when he first came. And, indeed, though he didn’t 
actually boast of it, yet in his secret soul he did to a great 30 
extent believe, that the great reform in the School had been 
owing quite as much to himself as to any one else. Arthur, 
he acknowledged, had done him good, and taught him a good 
deal, so had other boys in different ways, but they had not had 
the same means of influence on the School in general ; and as 35 
for the Doctor, why, he was a splendid master, but every one 
knew that masters could do very little out of school hours. In 
short, he felt on terms of equality with his chief, so far as the 
social state of the School was concerned, and thought that the 
Doctor would find it no easy matter to get on without him. 40 
Moreover, his school Toryism was still strong, and he looked still 


254 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


with some jealousy on the Doctor, as somewhat of a fanatic 
in the matter of change ; and thought it very desirable for the 
School that he should have some wise person (such as himself) 
to look sharply after vested School-rights, and see that nothing 
5 was done to the injury of the republic without due protest. 

It was a new light to him to find, that, besides teaching the 
sixth, and governing and guiding the whole School, editing 
classics, and writing histories, the great Head-master had 
found time in those busy years to watch over the career, even 
10 of him, Tom Brown, and his particular friends, — and, no 
doubt, of fifty other boys at the same time ; and all this with- 
out taking the least credit to himself, or seeming to know, or 
let any one else know, that he ever thought particularly of any 
boy at all. 

15 However, the Doctor’s \dctory was complete from that 
moment over Tom Brown at any rate. He gave way at all 
points, and the enemy marched right over him, cavalry, in- 
fantry, and artillery, the land transport corps, and the camp 
followers. It had taken eight long years to do it, but now it 
20 was done thoroughly, and there wasn’t a corner of him left 
which didn’t believe in the Doctor. Had he returned to 
school again, and the Doctor begun the half year by abolishing 
fagging, and football, and the Saturday half holiday, or all or 
any of the most cherished school institutions, Tom would have 
25 supported him with the blindest faith. And so, after a half con- 
fession of his previous shortcomings, and sorrowful adieus to 
his tutor, from whom he received two beautifully bound vol- 
umes of the Doctor’s Sermons, as a parting present, he marched 
down to the Schoolhouse, a hero-worshipper, who would have 
30 satisfied the soul of Thomas Carlyle himself. 

There he found the eleven at high jinks after supper. Jack 
Haggles shouting comic songs, and performing feats of strength; 
and was p’eeted by a chorus of mingled remonstrance at 
his desertion, and joy at his reappearance. And falling in 
35 with the humour of the evening, he was soon as great a boy as 
all the rest; and at ten o’clock was chaired round the quad- 
rangle, on one of the hall benches borne aloft by the eleven, 
shouting in chorus, ‘'For he’s a jolly good fellow,” while old 
Thomas, in a melting mood, and the other Schoolhouse ser- 
40 vants, stood looking on. 

And the next morning after breakfast he squared up all the 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


255 


cricketing accounts, went round to his tradesmen and other 
acquaintance, and said his hearty good-bys; and by twelve 
o’clock was in the train, and away for London, no longer a 
schoolboy, and divided in his thoughts between hero-worship, 
honest regrets over the long stage of his life which was now 5 
slipping out of sight behind him, and hopes and resolves for the 
next stage upon which he was entering with all the confidence 
of a young traveller. 


CHAPTER IX 


FINIS 

Strange friend, past, present, and to be; 

Loved deeplier, darklier understood ; 

Behold, I dream a dream of good. 

And mingle all the world with thee.” 

— Tennyson: In Memoriam. 

In the summer of 1842 , our hero stopped once again at the 
well-known station; and, leaving his bag and fishing-rod with 
a porter, walked slowly and sadly up towards the town. It was 
now July. He had rushed away from Oxford the moment 
5 that term was over, for a fishing ramble in Scotland with two 
college friends, and had been for three weeks living on oatcake, 
mutton-hams, and whiskey, in the wildest parts of Skye.° 
They had descended one sultry evening on the little inn at Kyle 
Rhea ferry; and while Tom and another of the party put their 
lo tackle together and began exploring the stream for a sea-trout 
for supper, the third strolled into the house to arrange for their 
entertainment. Presently he came out in a loose blouse and 
slippers, a short pipe in his mouth, and an old newspaper in 
his hand, and threw himself on the heathery scrub which met 
15 the shingle,® within easy hail of the fishermen. There he lay, 
the picture of free-and-easy, loafing, hand-to-mouth young 
England, ‘‘improving his mind,” as he shouted to them, by 
the perusal of the fortnight-old weekly paper, soiled with the 
marks of toddy-glasses and tobacco-ashes, the legacy of the last 
20 traveller, which lie had hunted out from the kitchen of the little 
hostelry, and, being a youth of a communicative turn of mind, 
began imparting the contents to the fishermen as he went on. 

“ What a bother they are making about these wretched Corn- 
laws®; here’s three or four columns full of nothing but sliding- 
25 scales and fixed duties. — - Hang this tobacco, it’s always going 

256 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


257 


out ! — Ah, here’s something better, — a splendid match be- 
tween Kent and England, Brown ! Kent winning by three 
wickets. ^ Felix fifty-six runs without a chance, and not out !” 

Tom, intent on a fish which had risen at him twice, answered 
only with a grunt. ^ 

‘‘Anything about the Goodwood?” called out the third 
man. 

“ Rory-o-More drawn. Butterfly colt amiss,” shouted the 
student. 

“Just my luck,” grumbled the inquirer, jerking his flies off m 
the water, and throwing again with a heavy sullen splash, and 
frightening Tom’s fish. 

“1 say, can’t you throw lighter over there? we ain’t fishing 
for grampuses,” shouted Tom across the stream. 

“ Hullo, Brown ! here’s something for you,” called out the 15 
reading man next moment. “ Why, your old master, Arnold 
of Rugby, is dead.” 

Tom’s hand stopped halfway in his cast, and his line and 
flies went all tangling round and round his rod; you might 
have knocked him over with a feather. Neither of his com- 20 
panions took any notice of him, luckily; and with a violent 
effort he set to work mechanically to disentangle his line. 
He felt completely carried off his moral and intellectual legs, 
as if he had lost his standing-point in the invisible world. 
Besides which, the deep loving loyalty which he felt for his old 25 
leader made the shock intensely painful. It was the first great 
wrench of his life, the first gap which the angel Death had 
made in his circle, and he felt numbed, and beaten down, and 
spiritless. Well, well ! I believe it was good for him and for 
many others in like ease ; who had to learn by that loss, that 30 
the soul of man eannot stand or lean upon any human 
prop, however strong, and wise, and good ; but that He 
upon whom alone it can stand and lean will knock away all 
such props in His own wise and merciful way, until there is 
no ground or stay left but Him.self, the Rock of Ages, upon 35 
whom alone a sure foundation for every soul of man is laid. 

As he wearily laboured at his line, the thought struck him, 

“ It may all be false, a mere newspaper lie,” and he strode up 
to the recumbent smoker. 

“ Let me look at the paper,” said he. 40 

“ Nothing else in it,” answered the other, handing it up to 

s 


258 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


him listlessly. — “ Hullo, Brown ! what’s the matter, old 
fellow — ain’t you well ? ” 

'‘Where is it?” said Tom, turning over the leaves, his hands 
trembling, and his eyes swimming, so that he could not read. 
.5 "What? What are you looking for?” said his friend, 
jumping up and looking over his shoulder. 

"That — about Arnold,” said Tom. 

"Oh, here,” said the other, putting his finger on the para- 
graph. Tom read it over and over again; there could be no 
10 mistake of identity, though the account was short enough. 

"Thank you,” said he at last, dropping the paper. "1 shall 
go for a walk; don’t you and Herbert wait supper for me.” 
And away he strode, up over the moor at the back of the house, 
to be alone, and master his grief if possible. 

15 His friend looked after him, sympathizing and wondering, 
and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, walked over to Herbert. 
After a short parley, they walked together up to the house. 

" I’m afraid that confounded newspaper has spoiled Brown’s 
fun for this trip.” 

20 " How odd that he should be so fond of his old master,” said 

Herbert. Yet they also were both public-school men. 

The two, however, notwithstanding Tom’s prohibition, 
waited supper for him, and had everything ready when he 
came back some half an hour afterwards. But he could not 
25 join in their cheerful talk, and the party was soon silent, not- 
withstanding the efforts of all three. One thing only had Tom 
resolved, and that was, that he couldn’t stay in Scotland any 
longer ; he felt an irresistible longing to get to Rugby, and then 
home, and soon broke it to the others, who had too much tact 
30 to oppose. 

So by daylight the next morning he was marching through 
Ross-shire,° and in the evening hit the Caledonian canal, ° took 
the next steamer, and travelled as fast as boat and railway 
could carry him to the Rugby station. 

35 As he walked up to the town, he felt shy and afraid of being 
seen, and took the back streets; why, he didn’t know, but he 
followed his instinct. At the School gates he made a dead 
pause ; there was not a soul in the quadrangle — all was lonely, 
and silent, and sad. So with another effort he strode through 
40 the quadrangle, and into the Schoolhouse offices. 

He found the little matron in her room in deep mourning; 


TOM BROWN'S SCHOOL DAYS 


259 


shook her hand, tried to talk, and moved nervously about: she 
was evidently thinking of the same subject as he, but he couldn’t 
begin talking. 

“Where shall I find Thomas?” said he at last, getting des- 
perate. 2 

“In the servants’ hall, I think, sir. But won’t you take 
anything?” said the matron, looking rather disappointed. 

“No, thank you,” said he, and strode off again to find the 
old Verger, who was sitting in his little den as of old, puzzling 
over hieroglyphics. lo 

He looked up through his spectacles, as Tom seized his hand 
and wrung it. 

“Ah! you’ve heard all about it, sir, I see,” said he. 

Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe-board, while 
the old man told his tale, and wiped his spectacles, and fairly 15 
flowed over with quaint, liomely, honest sorrow. 

By the time he had done, Tom felt much better. 

“Where is he buried, Thomas?” said he at last. 

“ Under the altar in the chapel, sir,” answered Thomas. 
“You’d like to have the key, I dare say.” 20 

“Thank you, Thomas — yes, I should very much.” And 
the old man fumbled among his bunch, and then got up, as 
though he would go with him; but after a few steps stopped 
short, and said, “Perhaps you’d like to go by yourself, sir?” 

Tom nodded, and the bunch of keys were handed to him, 25 
with an injunction to be sure and lock the door after him, and 
bring them back before eight o’clock. 

He walked quickly through the quadrangle and out into the 
close. The longing which had been upon him and driven him 
thus far, like the gadfly® in the Greek legends, giving him no 30 
rest in mind or body, seemed all of a sudden not to be satisfied, 
but to shrivel up, and pall. “Why should I go on? It’s no 
use,” he thought, and threw himself at full length on the turf, 
and looked vaguely and listlessly at all the well-known objects. 
There were a few of the town boys playing cricket, their wicket 35 
pitched on the best piece in the middle of the Big-side ground, 
a sin about equal to sacrilege in the eyes of a captain of the 
eleven. He was very nearly getting up to go and send them 
off. “ Pshaw ! they won’t remember me. They’ve more right 
there than I,” he muttered. And the thought that his sceptre'4o 
had departed, and his mark was wearing out, came home to 


2 G 0 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL BAYS 


him for the first time, and bitterly enough. He was l3dng on 
the very spot where the fights came off ; where he himself had 
fought six years ago his first and last battle. He conjured 
up the scene till he could almost hear the shouts of the ring, 
5 and East’s whisper in his ear ; and looking across the close 
to the Doctor’s private door, half expected to sec it open, and 
the tall figure in cap and gown come striding under the elm- 
trees towards him. 

No, no ! that sight could never be seen again. There was 
lono flag flying on the round tower; the Schoolhouse windows 
were all shuttered up; and when the flag went up again, and 
the shutters came down, it would be to welcome a stranger. All 
that was left on earth of him whom he had honoured, was lying 
cold and still under the chapel floor. He would go in and see 
15 the place once more, and then leave it once for all. New men 
and new methods might do for other people; let those who 
would, worship the rising star; he at least would be faithful 
to the sun which had set. And so he got up, and walked to the 
chapel-door and unlocked it, fancying himself the only mourner 
2c in all the broad land, and feeding on his own selfish sorrow. 

He passed through the vestibule, and then paused for a 
moment to glance over the empty benches. His heart was 
still proud and high, and he walked up to the seat which he 
had last occupied as a sixth-form boy, and sat himself down 
25 there to collect his thoughts. 

And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and setting in order 
not a little. The memories of eight years were all dancing 
through his brain, and carrjdng him about whither they would ; 
while, beneath them all, his heart was throbbing with the dull 
30 sense of a loss that could never be made up to him. The rays 
of the evening sun came solemnly through the painted windows 
above his head, and fell in gorgeous colours on the opposite 
wall, and the perfect stillness soothed his spirit by little and 
little. And he turned to the pulpit, and looked at it, and then, 
35 leaning forward with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. 
“ If he could only have seen the Doctor again for one five min- 
utes, — have told him all that was in his heart, what he owed 
to him, how he loved and reverenced him, and would by God’s 
help follow his steps in life and death, — he could have borne 
40 it all without a murmur. But that he should have gone away 
forever without knowing it all, was too much to bear.” — 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


2 C 1 


“But am I sure that he does not know it all?’’ — the thought 
made him start — “ May he not even now be near me, in this 
very chapel? If he be, am I sorrowing as he would have me 
sorrow — as I should wish to have sorrowed when I shall meet 
him again?” 5 

He raised himself up and looked round ; and after a minute 
rose and walked humbly down to the lowest bench, and sat 
down on the very seat which he had occupied on his first Sun- 
day at Rugby. And then the old memories rushed back again, 
but softened and subdued, and soothing him as he let himself lo 
be carried away by them. And he looked up at the groat 
painted window above the altar, and remembered how when 
a little boy he used to try not to look through it at the elm 
trees and the rooks, before the painted glass came — and the 
subscription for the painted glass, and the letter he wrote home 15 
for money to give to it. And there, down below, was the very 
name of the boy who sat on his right hand on that first day, 
scratched rudely in the oak panelling. 

And then came the thought of all his old school-fellows; 
and form after form of boys, nobler, and braver, and purer than 20 
he, rose up and seemed to rebuke him. Could he not think 
of them, and what they had felt and were feeling, they who 
had honoured and loved from the first, the man whom he had 
taken years to know and love? Could he not think of those 
yet dearer to him who was gone, who bore his name and shared 25 
his blood, and were now without a husband or a father? Then 
the grief which he began to share with others became gentle 
and holy, and he rose up once more, and walked up the steps 
to the altar ; and while the tears flowed freely down his cheeks, 
knelt down humbly and hopefully, to lay down there his share 30 
of a burden which had proved itself too heavy for him to bear 
in his own strength. 

Here let us leave him — where better could we leave him, 
than at the altar, before which he had first caught a glimosc of 
the glory of his birthright, and felt the drawing of the bond 35 
which links all living souls together in one brotherhood — at 
the grave beneath the altar of him who had opened his eyes to 
see that glory, and softened his heart till it could feel that bond ? 

And let us not be hard on him, if at that moment his soul 
is fuller of the tomb and him who lies there, than of the altar 40 
and Him of whom it speaks. Such stages have to be gone 


262 


TOM BROWNES SCHOOL DAYS 


through, I believe, by all young and brave souls, who must 
win their way through hero-worship, to the worship of Him 
who is the King and Lord of heroes. For it is only through 
our mysterious human relationships, — through the love and 
5 tenderness and purity of mothers, and sisters, and wives, — 
through the strength and courage and wisdom of fathers, and 
brothers, and teachers, — that we can come to the knowledge 
of Him, in whom alone the love, and the tenderness, and the 
purity, and the strength, and the courage, and the wisdom of 
10 all these dwell forever and ever in perfect fulness.'^ 


NOTES 

The Title. Inasmuch as the significance of the title, Tom 
Brown’s School Days, has been made the subject of much dis- 
pute, and since the public still insists that the hero of the story 
is identical with the author, it seems well, in justice to the 
latter, to quote a part of his preface to a later book — Tom 
Brown at Oxford. 

“The natural pleasure which I felt at the unlooked-for popu- 
larity of the first part of the present story was much lessened 
by the pertinacity with which many persons, acquaintances as 
well as strangers, would insist (both in public and private) on 
identifying the hero and the author. On the appearance of 
the first few numbers of the present continuation in Macmil- 
lan’s Magazine, the same thing occurred, and in fact reached 
such a pitch as to lead me to make some changes in the story. 
Sensitiveness on such a point may seem folly, but if readers 
had felt the sort of loathing and disgust which one feels at the 
notion of painting a favourable likeness of one's self in a work 
of fiction, they would not wonder at it. So now that this 
book is finished, and Torn Brown, so far as I am concerned, is 
done with forever, I must take this, my first and last chance 
of saying that he is not I, either as boy or man — in fact, not 
to beat about the bush, is a much braver, and nobler, and 
purer fellow than I ever was. 

2fi3 


264 


NOTES 


“When I first resolved to write the book, I tried to realize 
to myself what the commonest type of English boy of the upper 
middle class was, so far as my experience went; and to that 
type I have throughout adhered, trying simply to give a good 
specimen of the genus. I certainly have placed him in the 
country and scenes which I know best myself, for the simple 
reason, that I knew them better than any others, and there- 
fore was less likely to blunder in writing about them. 

“As to the name, which has been, perhaps, the chief ‘cause 
of offence’ in this matter, the simple facts are, that I chose 
the name ‘Brown,’ because it stood first in the trio of ‘Brown, 
Jones, and Robinson,’ which has become a sort of synonym for 
the middle classes of Great Britain. It happens that my own 
name and that of Brown have no single letter in common. As 
to the Christian name of ‘Tom,’ having chosen Brown, I could 
hardly help taking it as the prefix. The two names have gone 
together in England for two hundred years, and the joint name 
has not enjoyed much of a reputation for respectability. This 
suited me exactly. I wanted the commonest name I could 
get, and did not want any name which had the least heroic or 
aristocratic, or even respectable, savour about it. Therefore I 
had a natural leaning to the combination which I found ready 
to my hand. Moreover, I believed ‘Tom’ to be a more specially 
English name than John, the only other as to which I felt the 
least doubt. Whether it be that Thomas a Becket was for 
so long the favourite English saint, or from whatever other 
cause, it certainly seems to be the fact, that the name ‘Thomas’ 
is much commoner in England than in any other country. The 
words ‘tom-fool,’ ‘tom-boy,’ etc., though perhaps not com- 
plimentary to the ‘Toms’ of England, certainly show how large 
a family they must have been. These reasons decided me to 
keep the Christian name which had been always associated 
with ‘ Brown,’ and I own that the fact that it happened to be 


NOTES 


265 


my own never occurred to me as an objection till the mischief 
was done past recall. 

“I have only, then, to say, that neither is the hero a portrait 
of myself, nor is there any other portrait in either of the books, 
except in the case of Dr. Arnold, where the true name is given. 
My deep feeling of gratitude to him, and reverence for his 
memory, emboldened me to risk the attempt at a portrait in 
his case, so far as the character was necessary for the work. 
With these remarks, I leave this volume in the hands of 
readers.'' — Tom Brown at Oxford in Author's Preface. 

1:1. The Browns. “As to the name which has been per- 
haps the chief cause of offence in this matter [of identifying the 
author with the hero] the simple facts are that I chose the 
name ‘Brown,' because it stood first in the trio of ‘Brown, 
Jones, and Robinson,' which has become a sort of synonym for 
the middle classes of Great Britain. 

I wanted the commonest name I could get, and did not want 
any name which had the least heroic, or aristocratic, or even 
respectable, savour about it. Therefore I had a natural lean- 
ing to the combination [Tom and Brown] which I found ready 
to my hand." 

— Thomas Hughes, in Preface to Tom Brown at Oxford. 

1:2. Pen of Thackeray and the pencil of Doyle. In 1849 
Thackeray, under the pseudonym of “Mr. Brown," contributed 
to the London Punch a series of letters addressed to a young 
man about town. These letters were illustrated by the artist, 
Richard Doyle. 

1:14. Cressy, a village in northern France. Here in August, 
1346, the English under Edward III. defeated the French under 
Philip VI. Agincourt is twenty-nine miles southeast of 


266 


NOTES 


Boulogne, France. The place is noted for the victory which 
the English, under Henry V., gained over the French under the 
Constable d’Albret in October, 1415. 

1 ; 15. Lord Willoughby. An English navigator who perished 
in Lapland in 1554, along with sixty-two of his companions. 

1 : 16. Culverin. A large musket or hand gun. A Hand- 
grenade was an explosive shell to be thrown into the trenches. 

1 : 18-19. George Brydges Rodney. An English admiral, who 
gained two noted victories, — one over the Spaniards in 1780, 
and one over the French in 1782. John Jervis, Earl of St. 
Vincent, was made first lord of the Admiralty in 1801. James 
Wolfe was killed at the battle of Quebec, 1759, while directing 
the attack against the French forces under Montcalm. Sir 
John Moore, a British general, was killed at Corunna, 
Spain, in January, 1809 ; his death has been made famous 
by Rev. Charles Wolfe’s poem. The Burial of Sir John Moore. 
Horatio Nelson, one of the most famous of the English ad- 
mirals, died on shipboard at Trafalgar, 1805. Arthur Wellesley, 
Duke of Wellington, won fame both as a general and as a states- 
man ; his death in 1852 was commemorated by Tennyson’s ode. 

2:8. Wanted their “sacer vates.” Sacred soothsayer or 
poet. “Wanted ” is here used in the English sense of “ lacked.” 

3 : 27. You and I : 10. This expression is now regarded as 
ungrammatical; in such a construction we should say, you and 
me. 

3 : 40. Berks, or Berkshire, is a midland county in England 
lying in the valley of the Thames. It is noted for its beautiful 
and varied scenery. It is crossed from east to west by a range 
of chalk hills which attain their greatest height, 893 feet, at 
White Horse Hill (so-called from the figure of a gigantic horse 
rudely defined in chalk — a relic of ancient times) . Between 
this range — the west part of which is occupied by sheep walks 
— and a smaller oolitic one skirting the valley of the Thames, . 


NOTES 


267 


is the vale of the White Horse, — the richest and most beautiful 
part of the valley. The county is traversed by the Great 
Western Railway and its branch lines, and by two canals. The 
British and Roman remains are numerous, including Roman 
roads and many camps and barrows. Of the old castles, the 
principal one is Windsor; of monastic establishments, the 
most interesting are the abbeys of Abingdon and Reading. 
The churches are small, and, from the scarcity of building 
stone, are often constructed of chalk and flint. 

— Adapted from Chambers’s Cyclopcedia. 

4 : 38. Mudie’s Library, founded in 1842 by Charles Mudie, 
has become the largest circulating library in London. 

5:2. Dresden and the Louvre. The Royal Picture Gallery 
in the “New Museum,” at Dresden, and the national exhibits 
in the Palace of the Louvre at Paris, are two of the most famous 
collections in the world. 

5 : 10. butts. Targets. 

5 : 16. Duke domum. Sweet home. 

5 : 34. Charley. Colloquial name for a fox. The Berkshire 
was, of course, the Berkshire Hunting Club. 

6 : 20. Richard ,Swiveller, or Mr. Stiggins. Dick Swiveller, 
the melancholy “moralist” of Dickens’s Old Curiosity Shop, and 
the Rev. Mr. Stiggins, revered by Mrs. Weller in the Pickwick 
Papers. 

7:8. Sappers. Persons employed in the construction of 
military trenches and fortiflcations. 

7 : 10. The ordnance map is the map made by the military 
authorities. 

7 : 19. Balak brought Balaam. “And it came to pass on the 
morrow, that Balak [King of the Moabites] took Balaam, a 
prophet of Pethor in Mesopotamia, and brought him up into 
the high places of Baal that hence he might see the utmost 
part of the people. . . . ‘ And he [Balaam] took up his parable 


2G8 


NOTES 


and said, Balak the king of Moab hath brought me from Aram 
out of the mountains of the east, saying Come, curse ye me 
Jacob, and come, defy Israel. 

“How shall I curse, whom God hath not cursed? or how 
shall I defy, whom the Lord hath not defied?’' 

— Numbers xxii. 41 and xxiii. 7, 8. 

Balak was the king of the Moabites. Balaam (Hebrew for 
Destroyer) was a prophet of Pethor in .Mesopotamia. 

7 : 23. Ashdown. The locality about two miles south of 
Uffington, in Berkshire, where Ethelred and Alfred the Great 
met and defeated the Danes in 871. Not the modern Ashdown. 

7 : 31. Asser. A Welsh monk of St. David’s, afterwards 
Bishop of Sherborne, who was the instructor, companion, and 
biographer of Alfred the Great. He died in 908. 

7 : 35. The Alma. A river in the southwestern part of the 
Crimea — the scene of a spirited battle which occurred in 1854, 
during the Crimean War. In this battle, the Russians, who 
had taken up their position on the splendid heights that 
fringed one bank of the Alma River, were met by the English, 
French, and Turks. These forces, about 64,000 strong, 
charged up the hill with headlong courage and obstinacy, and, 
after several hours of pell-mell fighting, finally put the Rus- 
sians to flight. 

8 : 25. St. George. He was made the patron saint of Eng- 
land at the instance of Edward III. 

9 : 7. Wayland Smith is famous in English folk-lore as a 
supernatural blacksmith who lived in a cave near Ashdown in 
Berkshire. Scott adapts the legend to his own use. 

9:11. Inigo Jones. A noted English architect of the 
seventeenth century, court architect under James I. and 
Charles I. Among his greatest works are the Covent Garden 
Piazza, the banqueting hall, Whitehall, and the famous por- 
tico of old St. Paul’s Cathedral. 


NOTES 


269 


10 : 1. Toby Philpot jug. A ‘‘Toby"’ was a jug or pitcher, 
in the form of an old gentleman with a large three-cornered hat. 

11 : 10. The Ingoldsby Legends. A series of satirical stories 
in prose and verse contributed to magazines by Richard Harris 
Barham, under the pseudonym of Thomas Ingoldsby, in 1837, 
and following. In 1840 they were published in book form. 

11 : 22. Moated grange. In mediseval times a grange was a 
storehouse and farm buildings belonging to a religious estab- 
lishment, or feudal lord, where tithes were stored. Many build- 
ings with moats still exist in England. 

11 : 23. Mariana. The reference is to Tennyson’s lyric, 
Mariana in the Moated Grange. 

11 : 35. “ Adscriptus glebae.” Attached to the soil. 

11 : 36. The “twang” is well illustrated in the conversation 
ascribed to the landlord, and in the rhyme of the west-country 
yeomen. 

12 : 11. Mummers. Originally one who is mum, i.e. acts 
in pantomime, wearing a mask. Later applied to any small 
band of masked actors. 

13 : 3. Reading is the county seat of Berkshire. Abingdon 
is the name of a town in Berkshire, noted chiefly for its monastic 
remains. 

13 : 10. Don. Head, fellow, or tutor at one of the universi- 
ties. 

14 : 8. Comme le limacon, etc. As the snail, carrying all 
his baggage, his furniture, his house. 

14 : 13. Kraal. A collection of huts surrounded by a stock- 
ade. 

14 : 18. Sar. Serve it out. 

14 : 19. Holus bolus. A mock latinization of whole bolus, or 
of an assumed Greek, ^iXos ^CoKos, all at a gulp. 

Title. The Veast. The word veast is simply the colloquial 
form of our word feast. 


270 


NOTES 


15 ; 4. Venerable and learned poet. Wordsworth. 

** My heart leaps up when I behold 
A rainbow in the sky : 

So was it when my life began : 

So is it now I am a man ; 

, So be it when I shall grow old, 

Or let me die, 

The child is father of the man.’' 

15 : 7. A fortiori. With better reason. 

15 : 30. The word notable (usually pronouneed nStable) is 
here used to describe a girl who is a good housekeeper. 

16 : 27. Early morn till dewy eve 

“ From morn 

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 

A summer’s day.” 

— Paradise Lost, Book I., Lines 742-743. 

17 : 3. Pattens. Shoes with wooden soles or clogs. 

17 : 31. Pillion. Cushion for a woman to ride on behind a 
person on horseback. 

18 : 15. Pop-joying. Sport. 

19 : 34. Veast day. In no other country have the people 
celebrated their holidays with more unrestrained glee and in a 
more democratic spirit than in England. Cf. Irving's Christ- 
mas stories in The Sketch Book, Scott’s Kenilworth, and George 
Eliot’s Adam Bede. 

What holiday in our own country does the spirit of the 
“veast” (feast) suggest? 

22 : 9. Martinmas. The feast of St. Martin was held on 
the eleventh of November. 

22 : 33. Tuppence is colloquial for twopence, four cents. 

24 ; 7. Full twenty times was Peter feard. The lines are 
from Wordsworth’s Peter Bell, first part. 


NOTES ' . 271 

27 : 7. Wosbird. A good-for-nothing person; a slang term 
of abuse. 

27 : 12. Sir Roger de Coverley. See the papers of the Spec- 
tator, written by Addison and Steele. 

28 : 26. Yeast: a Problem. A novel written in 1848 by 
Charles Kingsley. 

29 : 18. Skittles. The game of ninepins. 

29 : 24. John. John Bull. A word used in personification of 
England. Also applied to an Englishman. 

32 : 4. This power. The '' occult ” power which so many 
still regard with superstitious awe we should call ‘‘ animal mag- 
netism/' or perhaps ‘'mesmerism." The unscrupulous use 
which men in superstitious times were wont to make of this 
“power" is well illustrated in the character of Dr. Doboobie 
(afterward Alasco), in Scott's Kenilworth. The better use to 
which they sometimes turned it is illustrated in the character 
of Wayland Smith, a personage in the same story. 

33 : 9. Gorse. Also called “furze" or “whin." A spiny 
shrub having many branches and yellow flowers. 

34 : 22. Mute inglorious Milton. See Gray's Elegy. 

36 : 17. James. Crichton, called the admirable Crichton, was 
a Scottish prodigy of learning and varied accomplishments. 

36 : 32. Tory. An earnest supporter of royal and ecclesi- 
astical authority. The Tories are opposed in politics to the 
party formerly called Whigs, but now called Liberals. 

37 : 19. Mullioned. Having divisions, between the panes, 
forming tracery. 

37 : 33. Swiss Family Robinson. A romance by Rodolphe 
Wyss, recording the adventures which the Robinson family 
had on a desert island where they were shipwrecked. 

42 : 38. Public Schools. The public schools in England do 
not correspond to the public or common schools in America, 
which are free and accessible to all classes of children, and in 


272 


NOTES 


which the teaching, especially that below the high school, is 
very elementary. The tuition at Rugby is about $150 annually, 
and the necessary expenses of a non-resident pupil about $450. 
In England, the title “Public School” is applicable only to 
endowed schools closely affiliated with the Universities — to 
schools corresponding, in many respects, to the smaller colleges 
in the United States. Of the schools of this type in England, 
there are about fifteen. The most famous are Eton, Harrow, 
Winchester, Westminster, St. PauPs, Charterhouse, Merchant 
Taylor’s, Rugby, and Shrewsbury. Most of these were founded 
in ancient times, expressly for such instruction in Greek and 
Latin as would prepare scholar.s for the universities. 

44 : 23. Gaby of a fellow. We should say dunce or simpleton. 

44 : 32. Primum tempus. First time, — meaning here the 
first offence. 

47 : 3. Rugby. The town of Rugby is located on the Avon 
River in Warwickshire, about eighty miles northwest of Lon- 
don and at the junction of seven or eight important railway 
lines. In the days of Tom Brown it was connected with the 
outside world by stage-coaches. For miles around, the sur- 
rounding country is beautiful with its little hamlets, its pleas- 
ant groves, its broad fields, and its wide parks and^ stately 
old manors. Rugby School, which is removed from the bustle 
of the town, is situated at the south edge of the town, about 
half a mile from the London and North Western Railway 
station, which is at the north end. 

48 : 6. Islington. A suburb of London. 

48 : 11. Town. London. 

49 : 15. “Brown stout” is a strong malt liquor. 

50 : 23. Trichinopoli is a district in Madras, British India. 

50 : 39. What is he sent to School for ? This thought, 

attributed to Squire Brown, seems to reflect the author’s own 
view as to what constitutes the main business of a public school. 


NOTES 


273 


It is interesting in this connection to note that Tom Brown’ s 
School Days has been criticised upon the ground that Hughes 
has laid too much stress upon the moral and religious training 
received at Rugby, and too little upon the academic phase of 
the work. 

51 : 15. Petersham coat. A coat made of rough, knotted 
woollen cloth, which derived its name from Lord Petersham. 

52 : 12. On the top of the Tally-ho. The tally-ho coaches 
often have, in addition to the three or four seats inside, two or 
three long seats on top. This type Of coach is often called a 
“drag.” 

53 : 26. Purl. A spiced malt liquor. 

54 : 1. Hack. A saddle-horse for ordinary road riding as 
distinguished from one trained for hunting or military use. 
The huntsman would ride to the meeting-place on his hack, 
saving his hunter for the chase. 

55 ; 36. Twenty minutes afore twelve down. The journey of 
eighty miles from London to Rugby, which took Tom Brown 
eight hours, is now easily accomplished by railway in less than 
two hours. 

55 : 39. No paving to the street nor no lighting. Although 
the streets are now paved and lighted, the town is still an 
“out-of-the-way place and very slow.” There is little trade 
aside from the railroad traffic and school supply. 

61 : 14. Field or close. The Close is the playground of the 
school, lying back of the main block of buildings and occupying 
at the present time seventeen acres. “It is still, with its broad 
expanses of well-mown turf and its shady trees, the most 
attractive place in Rugby; but its beauty has been sadly spoiled 
by the havoc of storms, notably those of 1891 and 1895; for its 
particular charm lay in the splendid elm trees, marking the 
lines where, in old days, the hedges had run when the ground 
was still divided into fields. . . . With the trees went also 


T 


274 


NOTES 


most of the rooks whose pleasant, homely note added greatly 
to the attractiveness of the close.'' — H. C. Bradby. 

61 : 16. Long line of gray buildings. These buildings, now 
commonly known as the Old Buildings, are built of white brick, 
with stone facings and battlements in imitation of the castel- 
lated style of the fifteenth century. 

61 : 20. Oriel-window above. The bay window which looks 
down upon High Street from a small but lofty room — origi- 
nally serving the purpose of a library — is built over the porch 
just inside the gateway to Rugby. The oriel is filled with inter- 
esting stained glass containing the names, and in many cases 
the portraits, of successive head-masters from the earliest times 
to 1894. 

62 : 18. Schoolhouse. Of the nine houses which constituted 
the school boarding-houses of Rugby, the “schoolhouse" is 
especially distinguished because it includes the residence of 
the head-master. When a boy enters Rugby, he becomes a 
member of one of these nine houses into which the school is 
divided, just as he would enter one of the colleges on going to 
the University at Oxford or Cambridge. The other houses are 
presided over by assistant masters, all being under jurisdiction 
of the school. 

62 ; 26. Hat. “ We had a school heraldry with its rules so 
precise and so complete, that had a commission of visitation 
been issued, and the Garter Principal King at Arms, provided 
that he had a nice knowledge of Rugby blazonry, attended, he 
would have been able to have assigned to each boy in the 
school his house, his rank, and his dignity. 

“I entered the school in April, 1871. Then every boy was 
obliged to wear a silk hat, or Hopper,' during his first term. 
My second year at school was the last in which that rule was in 
force; and very indignant were we boys, who had borne the 
heat and burden of the summer, that the new boys, w'ho sue- 


NOTES 


275 


ceeded us, should escape from a similar ordeal. I well remem- 
ber the first night of my arrival, a new boy, of the previous 
term, coming into the bedroom with a straw hat, or ‘straw,’ 
in his hand, which he regarded with rapture, admiring it as a 
sign of his emancipation. I remember, too, that as he heard 
somebody coming down the passage, probably an older boy, 
he put up his finger to his lips for me to be silent, for in those 
days new boys were allowed only to be seen and not to be 
heard. For two years after his first term a boy wore a black 
and white speckled straw hat wdth a black ribbon. Each 
house had its own distinctive ribbon. Magenta and black 
was the Schoolhouse colour. My house colour was yellow 
and black, the ribbon having a yellow stripe down the centre, 
or being some other mixture of yellow and black. At the end 
of his third year a boy could ‘take’ his ‘white straw,' but he 
was not expected to do this unless he were a ‘swell.' Even a 
boy in the sixth would not take his white straw except perhaps 
as the head of the school without first distinguishing himself 
in the games." — Lee Knowles, M.P., Rugby School : Games. 

62 : 40. Seven-and-sixpence. Seven shillings and sixpence; 
about one dollar, eighty-seven cents. 

63 : 1. “Tile." A stiff hat — colloquial in England. 

63 : 40. The “quadrangle," a small paved square surrounded 
on the north and on the south by school buildings belonging 
to the Schoolhouse, and on the south and east by cloisters 
and Schoolhouse studies. 

64 : 7. Schoolhouse hall. The dining hall — along, tall room 
plainly furnished with oak tables and benches and with an 
oak wainscoting eight feet high all around. At the south end, 
underneath the window, is a platform just wide enough to 
receive a bench and table, where the boys of the Sixth Form 
sit at meals. 

64 ; 19. Separate studies. “Between the dining hall and 


276 


NOTES 


the head-master’s part of the house are the three original 
stories of studies; the two upper passages have a row of studies 
on each side, looking upon the Close on one side and on to the 
court on the other. The studies opening into the bottom 
passage, into one of which East landed Tom Brown, look out 
upon the Close.” — H. C. Bradby, Rugby. 

64 : 38. Amy Robsart. The unfortunate heroine in Scott’s 
Kenilworth. 

64 : 39. Tom Crib. A noted English pugilist who died in 
1848. 

65 : 25. Uncommon cold at nights. These “dens,” as the 
studies are familiarly called, are queer cozy little places, where 
the boys can sit in their arm-chairs and take down books from 
any of the shelves without getting up. The studies are now 
warmed by hot-water pipes; in the time of Tom Brown, how- 
ever, there was no nearer source of heat in winter than a big 
fire at each end of the passage. As custom forbade the study 
doors of all except the praepostors to be left open, but little 
warmth found its way into the boys’ “dens.” 

— H. C. Bradby, Rugby. 

66 : 27. The fives’ court is a long, high building with solid 
walls, for the game of “Fives,” — a game played with a ball 
which is struck with the hand against the back wall of a three- 
sided court. The origin of the name is uncertain ; possibly it 
was given because the ball is struck with the hand, i.e. the five 
fingers; possibly because the points are counted up to fifteen. 

66 : 29. Place for fights. Before the time of Arnold’s ad- 
ministration at Rugby, the fights took place in a field outside 
the bounds, where the chance of interference upon the part of 
masters was very slight. One morning after Arnold came to 
Rugby an unusually brutal fight occurred. The report of it 
reached the ears of Dr. Arnold, who immediately ruled that all 
fights should thereafter be fought in that part of the Close, 


NOTES 


277 


where the assistant masters were passing every hour in the day, 
and where he himself could view from his study all that occurred. 

66 : 35. The Island. In the southeastern part of the original 
Close — which in the time of Tom Brown was smaller than it 
is now — is a small tumulus surrounded by a moat or ditch. 
This mound, though the moat encompassing it has been 
drained, is still called the Island. The boys of the Sixth Form, 
to whom the Island was sacred as the scene of historic incidents 
connected with Rugby School life, and especially as the place 
where their Speech Day was observed, determined to have the 
Island decorated with flowers for that occasion, which until 
1836 came on Wednesday of Easter week. To this end they 
compelled their fags to begin six weeks before Easter the work 
of breaking up the soil. As the Island was covered with trees, 
the ground was exceedingly difficult to turn, and the difficulty 
was all the greater because, spades being rare, the boys were 
compelled to dig up the ground with knives, nails, or pointed 
sticks. This burdensome task continued until the week before 
Easter, when the fags were despatched to a neighbouring field 
to secure turf with which to border the Garden Island. After 
cutting the turf, twenty fags, harnessed to a rude conveyance 
called a “turf cart,'’ dragged it back to the Island. Finally 
they secured flowers and bulbs by a similar method of appropria- 
tion, and planted them on the Island within the turf border. 

67 : 12. Rugby football is still famous as compared with the 
“association " game for its vigour and roughness, though now 
it is much milder than it was in Tom Brown’s days; hacking, 
scragging, mauling, and tripping, which were in vogue then, 
have disappeared entirely. 

“To-day a ‘forward’ in a game of football would be aston- 
ished were he to receive a kick on the shin, and he would be 
still more astonished were that kick to be oft repeated. And 
a ‘half-back,’ running with a ball under his arm, would be at a. 


278 


NOTES 


loss to understand his position were he to find himself suddenly 
brought to the ground by the foot of the first man among his 
opponents ‘on side/ who in my days would have been entitled 
to take a flying kick at him.” — Thomas Hughes, Rugby School. 

67 : 13. Hacks. Bruises on the legs. 

68 : 3. Fellows in quarters. At Rugby, football is com- 
pulsory, unless a pupil is physically unable to engage in the 
sport. Until 1871 all the school were expected to take part 
in the three big games played during the Christmas term; but 
only boys who had won distinction in former games actually 
played. The rest were expected to keep goal. A curious sight 
it was, says Thomas Hughes, to see the rush of small boj'-s 
toward the ball when it came near and threatened their 
goal. 

68 : 21. Three trees. These trees, which stood near the 
middle of the Close, are now all down. Two of them fell in a 
severe storm in 1881, and the last one shared a similar fate in 
1895. 

69 : 4. Three hundred. At the present time there are about 
six hundred boys at Rugby. 

69 : 10. The big school, forming the western side of the 
Rugby quadrangle, is a large, plain room, sixty-three feet long 
and twenty-nine feet wide, panelled part of the way up in oak. 
It was used until 1886 as an assembly hall for the meeting of 
the whole school. 

69 ; 15. The praepostors, or Sixth Form boys, upon whom 
a large measure of the discipline depends, were required, in 
rotation, to keep order in the halls while the names were being 
called over. 

69 : 22, Shell. A name for an intermediate class. 

69 ; 32. Schoolhouse match. During the Christmas term 
three great games are played : the Sixth, the old Rugbeian, and 
the Schoolhouse versus the School. Of these matches the one 


NOTES 


279 


played between the Schoolhouse boys and the boys of the other 
boarding-houses is most exciting, 

72 : 13. Plancus. A Roman consul who rendered himself 
ridiculous by his follies and extravagances. Hughes doubtless 
means that the spirit of the school allowed foolish and careless 
preparation of lessons. It is not to be taken as an allusion to 
Dr. Arnold. 

74 : 23. Toco. School slang for punishment. 

79 : Motto. Vi irbros ddijs. The banquet was excellent. 

79 : 14. Opodeldoc is a sort of liniment, consisting of soap, 
alcohol, camphor, and other ingredients. 

82 : 20. Little fives’ court. The porch inside the gateway 
leading from High Street, and directly under the small room 
then serving the purpose of a library, was used as a fives’ court. 

83 : 7. Made to sing a solo. This custom of forcing boys to 
sing is still observed. The rule now is that the boys must 
stand on the table with their legs as far apart as possible, hold- 
ing in each hand a lighted candle. On the table beside the boy 
is placed a jug of liquid composed of beer, salt, mustard, soap, 
etc. A swallow of this is forced upon the boy who fails to sing. 

83 : 16. Fugleman. A leader. 

85 : 18. Balliol scholarship. A scholarship offered at Balliol 
College, Oxford. 

85 : 22. Bullying. Hughes’s story has been frequently criti- 
cised upon the ground that it emphasized the bullying prac- 
tised in the school, without suggesting a remedy for the evil, 
which is still so prevalent in all large schools. Although Hughes 
suggests no remedy, he makes the practice appear odious, by 
representing Flashman, the chief of bullies, as the most cowardly 
and most contemptible boy in the school. 

86 : 20. Harriers and beagles. Thomas Hughes, in his 
sketch, Rugby School, says : “I never quite learned how the 
beagles and guns were put down ; but from hints let drop by 


280 


NOTES 


old Thomas, — the schoolhouse head porter and the Doctor’s 
right-hand man, who became confidential with me in my last 
years, — I believe it to have been thus. Every boy had a 
‘spending house,’ as it was called, at one of the confectioners in 
High Street, where he left his books, bat, fishing-rod, etc., — 
to save a journey to his boarding-house — and spent his spare 
cash. It was in the back yards of these houses that dogs and 
guns were kept, and Thomas quietly intimated to each that 
any house which harboured either dog or gun would be at once 
made ‘out of bounds.’ The cure was perfect. In all my time 
there was no dog kept that I ever heard of, and only one gun, 
a double-barrelled sporting rifle which had been given to the 
owner by a returned Indian uncle, and which it took him all 
his time to keep hidden away.” 

86 : 33. Football, or cricket. Football, which originated at 
Rugby, was, and is, by far the most popular game played there ; 
the game next in favour is cricket. 

87 : 30. Old Brooke’s speech. The veneration and respect 
in which Arnold was held by the boys of the Sixth Form is 
well reflected in the entire speech made by Brooke. 

87 : 39. Bigoted holders by established forms. The boys’ 
bigoted devotion to traditional customs, and their persistent 
rebellion against any sort of change which might reflect unfa- 
vourably upon the past management of the school, was a source 
of great annoyance and anxiety to Dr. Arnold, who felt that it 
was one of the greatest evils with which he had to contend. 

88 : 28. Setting up order with a strong hand. For the moral 
reform which Arnold hoped to accomplish through the boys of 
the Sixth Form, see biography of Dr. Arnold on p. xvii of 
Introduction. Although Dr. Arnold rarely came into direct 
contact with the boys of the lower forms, he kept himself in- 
formed in regard to the needs, disposition, conduct, and prog- 
ress of each boy in the school. 


NOTES 


281 


97 : 15. Balliol Scholarship. See note p. 85 : 18. 

99 : 19. The voice of one who was fighting for us and by our 
sides. With the sentiment which Thomas Hughes here ex- 
presses, compare that brought out in Matthew Arnold’s Rugby 
Chapel, printed on p. 290. 

101 : 20. Schoolhouse Littleside. The Close was divided 
into three portions, ‘'Old Bigside” on the east, and the ‘‘Pon- 
tines” and “Chapel Piece,” or “Littleside,” on the west. 
“Littleside” was for years regarded as belonging more par- 
ticularly to the boys of the Schoolhouse. 

102 : 4. Cock is the name of an inn. 

103 : 3. Wattle. Intertwinings of branches of shrubbery. 

103 : 27. Casts to be made. To “cast” in hunting is to 
spread out and search in different directions for a lost scent. 

104 : 4. The Dunchurch road runs lengthwise on one side of 
the Close; the Barby Road (sometimes called Watergate Street), 
on the other. 

107 : 2. Nicias. An Athenian, commanded the unsuccessful 
naval expedition against Syracuse, 413 b.c. 

108 : 28. Cornopean player. Cornet player. 

Ill : 13. Livy (59 b.c.-17 a.d.). The greatest of the 
Roman historians. 

Ill : 14. Virgil (70 b.c.-19 b.c.). In addition to the 
^neid, he wrote Bucolics and Georgies. 

111 : 14. Euripides (480 b.c.-406 b.c.). An Athenian dram- 
atist who wrote seventy-five dramas. The Hecuba is one of the 
extant eighteen. 

112 : 2. Argus. In Greek legend, this guardian of lo was 
supposed to have a hundred eyes. 

113 : 11. Fives’ -balls. These balls were used in the game 
of fives’ court, similar to the ancient game of hand tennis. The 
ball was batted by hand against a wall, as in handball. 

114 : 15. Triste, lupus stabulis, Virgil, Eclogues, HI., 80. 


282 


NOTES 


Triste lupus stabulis, maturis frugibus imbres, arboribus 
venti. A sad thing — the wolf for the flocks, torments for the 
maturing fruits, winds for the trees. 

115 : 37. Quit yourselves like men. On a statue of Thomas 
Hughes, set in front of the Art Museum, there is the following 
inscription: “Thomas Hughes, Q.C., M.P., Author of ‘Tom 
Brown.’ Born October XIX., MDCCCXXII. Died March 
XXII., MDCCCXCVI. Watch ye; Stand fast in the faith: 
Quit ye like men ; Be strong.’ 

117 : 10. Pickwick. “ The Posthumous Papers of the Pick- 
wick Club: Edited by Boz,” were published in shilling num- 
bers in 1836. They were brought out in book form the 
following year, and their authorship by Charles Dickens ac- 
knowledged. 

117 : 21. Mr. Winkle is one of the members of the noted 
Pickwick Club. 

124 : 3. The Penates were worshipped by the ancient Ro- 
mans as household gods. They were thought to preside over 
the doctrines of families. 

124 : 38. Houses of Palaver. Satirically used for the Houses 
of Parliament. 

126 : 6. Tizzy. A cant term for sixpence. 

132 : 21. Form. Desk. 

134 : 26. Palaver. See note on 124 : 38. 

134 : 28. Kossuth. A noted Hungarian patriot and orator 
who led the insurrection of 1848-1849. He lived an exile in 
Turkey, 1849-1851. 

134 : 28. Garibaldi. An Italian patriot exiled in 1834 for 
political reasons. He spent a portion of his exile in the United 
States, where he was naturalized. He died near Sardinia in 1882. 

134 : 28. Mazzini. An Italian revolutionist who for years 
contended unsuccessfully against monarchical ideas in Italy, 
He died at Pisa in 1872. 


NOTES 


283 


136 : 4. Ishmaelites. See Genesis xxiv. 14. The word as 
here used is almost equivalent to rebels. 

140 : 37. Lotus eaters. In classical mythology the lotus 
eaters were those who ate the leaf of the lotus, and as a con- 
sequence gave themselves up to a life of indolence. The may- 
flower is a species of the ephemera. Read Tennyson’s The 
Lotus Eaters. 


PART II 

150 ; 20. Frederick Marryat (1792-1848). A captain in the 
British navy; wrote many popular novels, the most famous 
being Mr. Midshipman Easy. 

157 : 41. Mount Horeb. 1 Kings xix. The reading of the 
entire nineteenth chapter of Kings will make plain the allusion 
to Elijah and to Baal. 

165 : 8. Utopian. In 1516 Sir Thomas More published his 
Utopia, a political romance setting forth a scheme of ideal gov- 
ernment. The adjective utopian is now used as a synonym for 
impractical or idealistic. 

165 : 37. Chartism took its name from an English document 
called the '‘People’s Charter,” which demanded more privileges 
for the labouring man. These demands were for universal 
suffrage, vote by ballot, annual parliament, the division of the 
country into equal electoral districts, the abolition of the prop- 
erty qualifications of members, and payment for their ser- 
vices. 

167 : 36. Lord Grey was the active minister in urging the 
Reform Bill of 1832. This bill secured a far more equitable 
representation in the House of Commons by disfranchising the 
rotten boroughs and giving more members to important cities 
like Manchester, Leeds, and Birmingham. 

168 : 11. Naaman, Elisha, Rimmon. 2 Kings v. - . 


284 


NOTES 


169 : 25, 26. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. Daniel iii,, 
16, 17, 18. 

171 : 6. Gradus ad Parnassum. A title of a Latin text- 
book, Ste'ps to Parnassus. 

174 : 30. Sebastopol. A seaport on the southwestern coast 
of Crimea. The siege of this Russian city was the chief event 
of the Crimean War. The allied armies — British, French, 
Turkish — commenced the siege October, 1854, and the Rus- 
sian soldiery held out until September, 1855. 

175 : 19. Thomas Bewick (pronounced Bu-ik) was an Eng- 
lish wood-engraver. He was likewise deeply interested in 
biology, and in 1797 published his most famous work, The 
History of British Birds. 

178 : 32. Achates. A friend of ^neas, whose fidelity was 
so great that fidus Achates has become proverbial for faithful 
friend. 

179 : 35. Plancus. See note to p. 72, 1. 13. 

179 : 41. William of Wykeham founded the great public 
school of Winchester where Dr. Arnold was a pupil. 

180 : 37. “More worlds than one.” 

181 : 16. O genus humanum. O race of men. 

182 : 9. Vicarious. Made or performed by substitution. 

182 : 16. Experto crede. Believe one who speaks from ex- 
perience. 

182 : 30. Sindbad is a character in one of the tales of the 
Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. On one of his adventures, 
Sindbad is aided by the roc, a gigantic bird which carries him 
out of the desert island. Sindbad describes the egg of the roc 
as being fifteen paces in circumference, and the legs of the bird 
as being as large as the trunks of trees. 

194 : Motto. Surgebat Macnevisius. This bit of schoolboy 
Latin may be freely translated, in the spirit of the orig-. 
inal: — 


NOTES 


285 


“Then fierce Macnevis started forth, 

And swore without a falter : — 

‘ I’ll fight, dear sir, for friendship’s sake 
This roaring lad, Mac waiter.’ ” 

194 : 8. Bell’s Life. An English sporting paper. 

194 ; 20. Mill. A cant name for a fight. 

195 : 33. Shell. The “shell” is an intermediate form or 
class in English public schools. 

195 : 34. Dramatis personae. Personages of the drama, 
i.e. the characters in the story. 

196 : 10. Nem. con. Nemine contradicente (no one contrar 
dieting). 

197 : 17. dXXa <rv rov y iweao-i . . . KaripvKcs. Iliad, XXIV., 
11. 771, 772. This is the lamentation of Helen over the 
body of Hector. Pope renders the wliole passage rather 
freely : — 

“ Y et it was never my fate, from thee to find 
A deed ungentle or a word unkind : 

When others cursed the authoress of their woe. 

Thy pity checked my sorrows in their flow : 

If some proud brother eyed me with disdain, 

Or scornful sister with her sweeping train. 

Thy gentle accents softened all my pain. ” 

200 : 7. Sprats. Small herring. 

200 : 40. Tuck. Slang for pastry or sweetmeats; 

209 : 6. Twenty is the name of the form immediately below 
the Sixth. 

210 : 1. Marylebone-match. Marylebone was one of the 
parliamentary boroughs of London, known to all schoolboys 
in England for the reason that the “Lord’s Cricket Grounds,” 
here referred to as “Lord’s Ground,” are those on which all 
the great public school and university cricket matches are 


286 


NOTES 


played, except those which, like the one here described, are 
played upon home grounds. 

The “London eleven’’ was the crack cricket team of the 
“ Lord’s Cricket Club.” 

213 : 5. Pie-match. In country colloquial use in England, 
“pie” was formerly a slang term for feast. After the cricket 
“.pie-match” at Rugby, the winning side celebrated its victory 
in a feast. To this feast the losing side contributed double the 
amount of the winning side, and were privileged to have present 
only those two players who had made the most runs and taken 
the most wickets. The institution was peculiar to Rugby. 

213 : 17. Big-side. See note to p. 101 : 20. 

216 : 16. Gammon. Talk nonsense, be absurd. 

215:30. Vulgus books and cribs. “Vulgus, a form of 
Latin exercise consisting of eight or ten lines of original Latin 
verse composed upon a subject assigned a day ahead of the 
recitation in which it was to be read. 

“There was in common use at Rugby a collection of tra- 
ditional vulguses, consisting of past exercises, copied and 
accumulated and used over and over again with small and 
colourable alterations. Even those boys who did the work 
honestly cared for little except to piece together a few lines 
which would scan tolerably; but many omitted to take the 
trouble, and got younger and cleverer boys to write for them. 
. . . The copying out of another boy’s vulgus or verse exer- 
cise and the surreptitious use of cribs became so common that 
it was very hard even for an honest boy to convince himself 
that they were wrong.” — Sir Joshua Fitch, The Arnolds. 

The schoolboy creed on this point will be stated in one of Harry 
East’s conversations with Tom Brown in the next chapter. 

217 : 2. Agamemnon is generally regarded as the greatest of 
the tragedies of ^schylus, the Greek dramatist. 

217 : 4. Thucydides, who lived in the fifth century b.c., was 


NOTES 


287 


one of the most celebrated of the Greek historians. The Birds, 
produced 414 b.c., is generally regarded as one of the best 
comedies written by Aristophanes. 

217 : 5. Tacitus (55? a.d.-117? a.d.). A celebrated Roman 
historian and legal orator. 

217 : 11. In this thing the .Lord pardon thy Servant. See 

2 Kings V. 18. Compare note on p. 168 : 11. 

219 : 4. The living, etc. See Isaiah xxxviii. 19. 

219 : 29. Living creatures and wheels. See Ezekiel i. 

220 : 29. Habakkuk; 2:3. For the vision is yet for an 
appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie; 
though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will 
not tarry.” 

222 : 1. Combes. Small, deep, narrow valleys. 

222 : 2. Cairn-gorm. A stone of a yellow or wine colour, 
consisting of rock-crystal coloured by oxide of iron, in use 
in Scotland for ornaments. 

222 : 3. Tors is the name for high, jutting rocks or hills. 
The root form appears in many proper names, such as Torquay. 

224 : 34. Locus poenitentiae. A point of repentance. 

226 : 16. James Sheridan Knowles (1784-1862). A British 
playwright. Of his plays The Hunchback is the most famous. 

226 : 31. Genus humanum. See note to p. 181 : 16. 

238 : 20. Rugby Poet. Arthur Hugh Clough was an intimate 
friend of Matthew Arnold, the son of Dr. Thomas Arnold. He 
was a poet deeply oppressed by the spirit of doubt, but he 
never abandoned the thought that the struggle toward higher 
things would finally avail. 

239 : 7. With larger, other eyes than ours. Tennyson’s In 
Memoriam, Canto LI. 

239 : 19. Marylebone-match. See note to 210 : 1. 

239 : 22. Lordsground is the name of a famous and fashion- 
able cricket ground in London. It is owned by the Marylebone 


288 


NOTES 


Cricket Club, the most select of the amateur cricket clubs in 
EiUgland. 

240 : 26. Lawrence Sheriff, an older contemporary of 
Shakespeare, was a London grocer who in his will made pro- 
vision for the founding of a school in his native town of Rugby. 

241 : 25. Oh, well bowled. Even those readers who do not 
understand the technical points of cricket can readily catch the 
enthusiasm of this spirited description of the match. 

244 : 13. The Knights, a comedy by Aristophanes, is less 
famous than The Birds, mentioned on p. 217. 

245 : 15. Herodotus, who lived in the fifth century b.c., was 
a celebrated Greek historian, called the Father of History. 

245 : 25. See note to 66 : 35. 

246 : 37. Island. See note to 66 : 35. 

250 : 39. King’s College is one of the group of colleges com- 
posing Cambridge University. 

251 ; 5. Nestor. In Greek legend, a king of Pylus, famous 
as the oldest councillor of the Greeks before Troy. 

252 : 41. In the shell. See note to 195 : 33. 

256 : 7. Skye. An island along the Invernesshire coast of 
Scotland. 

256 : 15. Shingle. Round, water-worn pebbles. 

256 ; 24. Corn Laws. The Anti-Corn-Law League was 
organized in 1839 to advocate the repeal of laws allowing 
import duties on grain. An act calling for the immediate 
reduction of these duties was passed under the ministry of 
Sir Robert Peel in 1846. Subsequently the duty was entirely 
removed. 

258 : 32. Ross-shire. A northern county in Scotland. The 
Caledonian Canal connects the North Sea with the Atlantic 
Ocean. 

259 : 30. Gadfly. lo, the daughter of Inachus, the king of 
Argos, was a priestess of Juno. Jupiter became enamoured 


NOTES 


289 


of lo and aroused the jealousy of Juno, who had discovered the 
intrigue. When Jupiter changed lo into a heifer, Juno sent 
the gadfly to pester her. From this legend the gadfly has come 
to symbolize the thing which torments. 

262 : 10. In perfect fulness. Dr. Arnold's death came sud- 
denly. On Saturday evening he seemed as well as usual, but 
the next morning admitted that he had had sharp pains across 
his chest. Early Sunday morning he awoke with still severer 
pains, due, the physician announced, to spasm of the heart. 
He died at 8 o'clock Sunday morning, June 12, 1842. 

The following extract from his diary suggests that to Dr. 
Arnold his death was not wholly unexpected: — 

“Saturday evening, June 11th. The day after to-morrow is 
my birthday, if I am permitted to live to see it — my forty- 
seventh birthday since my birth. How large a portion of my 
life on earth is already passed. And then — what is to follow 
this life? How visibly my outward work seems contracting 
and softening away into the gentler employments of old age. 
In one sense how nearly can I now say, ‘ Vixi.' And I thank 
God that, so far as ambition is concerned, it is, I trust, fully 
mortified; I have no desire other than to step back from my 
present place in the world, and not to rise to a higher. Still 
there are works which, with God's permission, I would do 
before the night cometh. . . . But above all let me mind 
my own personal work, — to keep myself pure and zealous and 
believing, — labouring to do God's will, yet not anxious that 
it should be done by me rather than by others, if God dis- 
approves of my doing." 

The poem which follows, written by Matthew Arnold, reflects 
the general attitude in which the great master of Rugby was 
held, not only by the son but likewise by the great majority of 
Rugby men. 
u 


290 


NOTES 


RUGBY CHAPEL 

November, 1857 

Coldly, sadly descends 
The autumn evening. The field 
Strewn with its dank yellow drifts 
Of wither’d leaves, and the elms. 

Fade into dimness apace. 

Silent; — hardly a shout 

From a few boys late at their play ! 

The lights come out in the street. 

In the schoolroom windows — but cold. 
Solemn, unlighted, austere. 

Through the gathering darkness, arise 
The chapel-walls, in whose bound 
Thou, my father ! art laid. 

There thou dost lie, in the gloom 
Of the autumn evening. But, ah ! 

That word, gloom, to my mind 
Brings thee back in the light 
Of thy radiant vigour again ; 

In the gloom of November we pass’d 
Days not dark at thy side; 

Seasons impair’ d not the ray 
Of thy buoyant cheerfulness clear. 

Such thou wast ! and I stand 
In the autumn evening, and think 
Of bygone autumns with thee. 

Fifteen years have gone round 
Since thou arosest to tread, 


NOTES 


291 


In the summer morning, the road 
Of death, at a call unforeseen. 
Sudden. For fifteen years 
We who till then in thy shade 
Rested as under the boughs 
Of a mighty oak, have endured 
Sunshine and rain as we might. 
Bare, unshaded, alone. 

Lacking the shelter of thee. 

O strong soul, by what shore 
Tarriest thou now ? For that force, 
Surely, has not been left vain ! 
Somewhere, surely, afar. 

In the sounding labour-house vast 
Of being, is practised that strength. 
Zealous, beneficent, firm ! 


Yes, in some far-shining sphere. 
Conscious or not of the past. 

Still thou performest the word 

Of the Spirit in whom thou dost live — 

Prompt, unwearied, as here ! 

Still thou upraisest with zeal 
The humble good from the ground. 
Sternly repressest the bad ! 

Still, like a trumpet, dost rouse 
Those who with half-open eyes 
Tread the border-land dim 
’Twixt vice and virtue; reviv’st, 
Succourest ! — this was thy work. 

This was thy life upon earth. 


292 


NOTES 


What is the course of the life 
Of mortal men on the earth ? — 

Most men eddy about 

Here and there — eat and drink, 

Chatter and love and hate, 

Gather and squander, are raised 
Aloft, art hurl'd in the dust, 

Striving blindly, achieving 
Nothing; and then they die — 

Perish — and no one asks 
Who or what they have been. 

More than he asks what waves. 

In the moonlit solitudes mild 
Of the midmost Ocean, have swell' d. 
Foam'd for a moment, and gone. 

And there are some, whom a thirst 
Ardent, unquenchable, fires. 

Not with the crowd to be spent. 

Not without aim to go round 
In an eddy of purposeless dust. 

Effort unmeaning and vain. 

Ah, yes ! some of us strive 
Not without action to die 
Fruitless, but something to snatch 
From dull oblivion, nor all 
Glut the devouring grave ! 

We, we have chosen our path — 

Path to a clear-purposed goal. 

Path of advance ! — but it leads 
A long, steep journey, through sunk 
Gorges, o’er mountains in snow. 
Cheerful, with friends, we set forth — 


NOTES 


293 


Then, on the height, comes the storm. 
Thunder crashes from rock 
To rock, the cataracts reply; 
Lightnings dazzle our eyes; 

Roaring torrents have breach’d 
The track, the stream bed descends 
In the place where the wayfarer once 
Planted his footstep — the spray 
Boils o’er its borders ! aloft 
The unseen snow beds dislodge 
Their hanging ruin ! — alas. 

Havoc is made in our train ! 

Friends, who set forth at our side. 
Falter, are lost in the storm. 

We, we only are left ! — 

With frowning foreheads, with lips 
Sternly compress’d, we strain on, 

On — and at nightfall at last 
Come to the end of our way. 

To the lonely inn ’mid the rocks; 
Where the gaunt and taciturn host 
Stands on the threshold, the wind 
Shaking his thin white hairs — 

Holds his lantern to scan 

Our storm-beat figures, and asks: 

Whom in our party we bring ? 

Whom we have left in the snow ? 

Sadly we answer: We bring 
Only ourselves ! we lost 
Sight of the rest in the storm. 

Hardly ourselves we fought through, 
Stripp’d, without friends, as we are, 


294 


NOTES 


Friends, companions, and train. 

The avalanche swept from our side. 
But thou would st not alone 
Be saved, my father ! alone 
Conquer and come to thy goal, 
Leaving the rest in the wild. 

We were weary, and we 
Fearful, and we in our march 
Fain to drop down and to die. 

Still thou turnedst, and still 
Beckonedst the trembler, and still 
Gavest the weary thy hand. 

If, in the paths of the world. 

Stones might have wounded thy feet. 
Toil or dejection have tried 
Thy spirit, of that we saw 
Nothing — to us thou wast still 
Cheerful, and helpful, and firm ! 
Therefore to thee it was given 
Many to save with thyself; 

And, at the end of thy day, 

O faithful shepherd ! to come. 
Bringing thy sheep in thy hand. 

And through thee I believe 
In the noble and great who are gone; 
Pure souls honour’d and blest 
By former ages, who else — 

Such, so soulless, so poor. 

Is the race of men whom I see — 
Seem’ d but a dream of the heart, 
Seem’d but a cry of desire. 

Yes ! I believe that there lived 


NOTES 


295 


Others like thee in the past, 

Not like the men of the crowd 
Who all round me to-day 
Bluster or cringe, and make life 
Hideous, and arid, and vile; 

But souls temper’d with fire. 

Fervent, heroic, and good. 

Helpers and friends of mankind. 

Servants of God ! — or sons 
Shall I not call you ? because 
Not as servants ye knew 
Your Father’s innermost mind. 

His, who unwillingly sees 
One of his little ones lost — 

Yours is the praise, if mankind 
Hath not as yet in its march 
Fainted, and fallen, and died ! 

See ! Jn the rocks of the world 
Marches the host of mankind, 

A feeble, wavering line. 

Where are they tending ? — A God 
Marshall’ d them, gave them their goal. 
Ah, but the way is so long ! 

Years they have been in the wild ! 

Sore thirst plagues them, the rocks, 
Rising all round, overawe; 

Factions divide them, their host 
Threatens to break, to dissolve. 

Ah, keep, keep them combined ! 

Else, of the myriads who fill 


296 


NOTES 


That army, not one shall arrive; 

Sole they shall stray; on the rocks 
Batter for ever in vain, 

Die one by one in the waste. 

Then, in such hour of need 
Of your fainting, dispirited race, 

Ye, like angels, appear. 

Radiant, with ardour divine. 
Beacons of hope, ye appear ! 
Languor is not in your heart. 
Weakness is not in your word, 
Weariness not on your brow. 

Ye alight in our van ! at your voice. 
Panic, despair, flee away. 

Ye move through the ranks, recall 
The stragglers, refresh the outworn. 
Praise, re-inspire the brave. 

Order, courage, return; 

Eyes rekindling, and prayers. 

Follow your steps as ye go. 

Ye fill up the gaps in our flies, 
Strengthen the wavering line, 
Stablish, continue our march. 

On, to the bound of the waste. 

On, to the City of God. 


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Shakespeare’s As You Like It. Edited by Charles Robert Gaston. 

Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Edited by L. A. Sherman, Professor of English 
Literature in the University of Nebraska. 

(Shakespeare’s Henry V. Edited by Ralph Hartt Bowles, Phillips 
Exeter Academy, Exeter, N.H. 

Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Edited by George W. Hufford and 
Lois G. Hufford, High School, Indianapolis, Ind. 

Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice. Edited by Charlotte W. Under- 
wood, Lewis Institute, Chicago, 111. 

Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Edited by C. W. French. 

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night. Edited by Edward P. Morton, Assist- 
ant Professor of English in the University of Indiana. 

Shelley and Keats (Selections from). Edited by S. C. Newsom. 

Southern Poets (Selections from). Edited by W. L. Weber, Professor 
of English Literature in Emory College, Oxford, Ga. 

Spenser’s Faerie Queene, Book I. Edited by George Armstrong 
Wauchope, Professor of English inr the South Carolina College. 

Stevenson’s Treasure Island. Edited by H. A. Vance, Professor of Eng- 
lish in the University of Nashville. 

Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels. Edited by Clifton Johnson. 

Tennjrson’s Idylls of the King. Edited by W. T. Vlymen, Principal 
of Eastern District High School, Brooklyn, N.Y. 

Tennyson’s Shorter Poems. Edited by Charles Read Nutter, In- 
structor in English at Harvard University; sometime Master in Eng- 
lish at Groton School. 

Tennyson’s The Princess. Edited by Wilson Farrand, Newark Acad- 
em)i Newark, N.J. 

Thackeray’s Henry Esmond. Edited by John Bell Henneman, Uni- 
versity of the South, Sewanee, Tenn. 

Washington’s Farewell Address, and Webster’s First Bunker Hill Ora- 
tion. Edited by WILLIAM T. PECK, Classical High School, Provi- 
dence, R.I. 

John Woolman’s Journal. 

Wordsworth’s Shorter Poems. Edited by Edward Fulton, Assistant 
Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Illinois. 


THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 

64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 



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